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PUCK ON PEGASUS: 



/ "^ / 

H? CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL 

Author of " Crescent ? anti other J^yrics" &=€. 



ILLUSTRATED BY LEECH, TENNIEL, DOYLE, SIR NOEL PATON, 

PHIZ, PORTCH, AND M. ELLEN EDWARDS. 

WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 



FTFTH EDITION, 

fOMI'I.ETr.I.Y RKVISED AND ENI.ARCKi). 



J 



JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN. 
1868. 



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LONDON : 

H. C'l.AY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS. 

ItkEAD STREET HIM,. 



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Cbc bumlrle piemonal of tljc Enberstgircb, 



PEGASUS, 



Sheweth- 



(i) That your Memorialist, on making his fifth appear- 
ance in pubhc (this time as a four-year-old), desires to 
avail himself of his prescriptive privilege as one of the 
" talking animals " to say a few words on his own 
account. 

(2) Memorialist would humbly represent that he is 
much afraid lest the fine ladies and gentlemen in the 
Grand Stand, or, still worse, those busy, earnest men 
down there, who are always making and unmaking 
books, should leave him out of the betting as an "old 



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The humble Memorial, &=€. 

stager," or perhaps refuse to put any more money upon 
him, because they think they have seen his best per- 
formanees already. 

(3) Against such unkind treatment Memorialist would 
respectfully protest. His (Memorialist's) master thinks 
(and Memorialist humbly thinks so too) that it's better 
to stick to one horse, and do all you know to make a 
winner of him, than to be constantly starting a lot of 
fresh animals, which may perhaps turn out to be mere 
weeds after all, or likely enough break down in their 
first race. 

Memorialist also alleges (what, poor beast, is true 
enough, goodness knows I) that when he entered for the 
Trial Stakes he was but a foal — a mere schoolboy of a 
horse, as it were, — and that, although he hopes he has 
not altogether discredited the kind judgment of those 
who supported him on that occasion, he has since under- 
gone an uncommonly sharp course of training,^ which, whilst 
getting rid of some superfluous lumber, has put on him 



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The hwnble Memorial, &^c. 

instead, he fancies, more of the real going stuft'. In fact, 
in his own opinion at least, he has been gradually getting 
into form ever since his first race, and is now a different- 
looking quadruped altogether. 

(4) On his original appearance Memorialist is conscious 
that his paces were thought by some to be occasionally 
rather too frohcsome — not to say skittish. His trainer 
has, however, carefully studied to remedy this little pecu- 
liarity, and has added to the establishment some couple 
of dozen new "bits" of various degrees of soUdity and 
severity for MemoriaUst's especial benefit ; whilst that the 
licking department generally has not been neglected may 
be gathered from the fact that he has to acknowledge the 
receipt of about the same number of extra "cuts" in 
coaching for this very race. 

(5) Under all these circumstances, Memorialist humbly 
hopes that on this, his perhaps final appearance on the 
same course, he may not be dismissed without a few 



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The humble Memorial^ &"€. 

encouraging pats en passant from his old backers, or at 
least a fair critical judgment of his capabilities in his 
new form. 

(6) In any case he means winning this time, and no 
mistake ! — the Blue Riband or Westminster Abbey, — and 
your Memorialist will ever pray. 



The Mews, Mount Helicon. 
No%<einber, 1867. 



To the most Worshipful^ the Three Estates of the Realm 
{and the Fourth especially). 



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Contents. 



I'AGR 

The JDxford and Cambridge Boat Race i 

Hffiv toe got to the Brighton Revie^v lo 

Ivy de Millejleurs . l6 

TAe Toad at the Great Exhibiticn . 21 

Song of In-ihe- Water ._ . . . ........ . . . 24 

The Djt Chaillu Controversy 27 

"yohn Murray's Ship Gorilla ..,...,... 31 

The Fight for the Championship 36 

The Petition . 45 

Hoiu the Daughters come doztm at Dunoon 47 

'The Poet Close' 5° 

Advertisement .,...,... 53 

Our Sweet Recruiting Sergeaiits ., : .... . 54 

Sonnet 57 



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Contents. 

PAGE 

Ah, Who! 59 

"■Daily Trials" 6i 

School ''Feeds'' 63 

Derby Day 68 

Lord Jollygreeii s Courtship 74 

A Fight 87 

Not Exactly 1 89 

Lay of the Deserted Lnjluenzced . .92 

The Night Mail North 95 

I've Lost my loo 

The VIII Crusade 104 

The Crossing-Sweeper 108 

In Mediavos 115 

The Well of Truth , , 118 

Perils of the Fine Arts , 127 

" Rejected Addresses" , , . . . 130 

''Fire!" 135 

Wus, Ever Was , 139 

Charge of the Light {Irish) Brigade 141 

Too bad, you know 145 

Ghostries 148 

Waterloo Place 150 



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Co72tents. 

PAGE 

The Massacre of Glenho iS^ 

Ode to Hampstead IS4 

Our Traveller . . . f IS^ 

Chinese Puzzles: — 

The Weddmg Gift iS9 

Etcetera . . .* 163 

What the Prince of I dreamt 168 

A Case in Lunacy I73 

A Squeak from Dean's Yard 176 

Exexolorl 178 

Th,: Thread of Life: 

Part L 181 

Part LL 193 

Part TIL 194 




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' ' Those that Hobgobhn call you, and sweet Puck, 

. You do their work, and they shall have good luck : 

Are not you he ?" 

Midsummer Nighfs Dream. 




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PUCK ON PEGASUS. 



:S<^U''^>^- 



CIjjJ #^orb mitr Cambnbjge §oat gaa. 



( 6(9;«/? )'/w^ before 1 860. ) 




HERE'S a living thread 
that goes winding, 
winding, 
1 ortuous rather, but easy 
of finding, 
Creep and crawl 
By paling and wall — 
Very much like a dust-dry 
snake — 
From Hyde Park Corner 
right out to Mortlake ; 



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J^uck on Pegasus. 

Crawl and creep, 

By level and steep, 
From Hammersmith Bridge back again to Eastcheap,— 
And all up the road from Putney to Town 
What the deuce has made the trees look so brown ; 

From earliest light 

And well over night 
That dusty coil has been weaving its trace. 

Horse and man, 

Wagon and van, 
Jog-trotting along since the day began — 
Rollicking, rumbling, and rolling apace. 
With their heads all one way like a shoal of dace ; 

And beauty and grace, 

And the Mayor without mace. 

The brilliant and base. 

Silk satins and lace. 

And the evil in case, 
Seem within an ace of a general embrace. 
In spirit, at least, as they join in the chase, 



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T/ie Oxford &= Cambridge Boat Race. 

As if the whole place 

Had set its whole face 

To see the Oxford and Cambridge Race. 



Over Putney Bridge 
There's a curious ridge — 
A swarm of something — it can't be midge % — 
And look, on this side, 
Where the arches are wide, 
Lie two lines of blue just breasting the tide : 
Side by side 
Tike shadows they glide, 
With a background of everything wooden or steel 
That's driven by oar, sail, paddle, or wheel, 
Striving and tearing, 
And pufhng and swearing, 
With the live black swarm that their decks are bearing, 
And an everlasting struggle and reel — 
Whilst over the water the merry bells peal. 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

Has any one seen some grand, fleet horse, 
At the starting-post of an Epsom course. 
With nostril spread and chest expanding, 
But Hke a graven image standing. 
Waiting a touch to start into hfe, 
And spurn the earth in the flying strife ? 
Whilst around, with restless eddying pace, 
Frolic the froth and foam of the race ? — 
So stood those two boats, the light and dark blues, 
With craft of a hundred shapes and hues 

That lined the Surrey side. 
And so, as when smit by wind and wheel 
Darts thro' the cleft spray the driven keel, 

They darted up the tide. 
With a single bound, like a single man, — 
Full seldom hath the brave river 
Together seen ride 
Such crews of pride ; 
The long boats leap as they breast the tide, 
And the stout oars bend and quiver. 



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o 



77^1? Oxford &■" Cafubridge Boat Race. 

" Cambridge ! Cambridge ! " — " Now, Oxford, now ! "- 
Betwixt the crews 
There isn't a pin to choose — 
Not so much as the turn of a feather — 
The Cambridge eight 
Have muscle and weight, 
But the short, sharp dash 
Of the dark blue falls like a single flash. 
So wholly they pull together. 



And they pull with a will ! 
Row, Cambridge, row. 
They're going two lengths to your one, you know- 
The Oxford have got the start, — 

Out and in — in, out — • 
Flash, feather — feather, flash — 
Without a jerk or an effort or splash, 

It's a wonderful stroke, no doubt. 
A wonderful stroke ! but a /eei/e too fast ? 



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I'uck on Pegasus. 

Forty-four to the minute at least ; 
For five or six years it's been all your own way, 
But you've got your work cut out to-day, 
Give 'em the Cambridge swing, I say. 
The grand old stroke, with its sweep and sway. 
And send her along ! never mind the spray — 
It's a mercy the pace can't last .... 
They never can live, tho' the Bridge is in sight . . 
Ha, now she lifts ! row, row ! . . . . 

, But in spite 

Of the killing pace, and the stroke of might, 
In spite of bone and muscle and height. 
Foot by foot 
And flight by flight 
On flies the dark blue like a gleam of blue light, 
And the river froths like yeast. 



" Oxford, Oxford ! she wins, she wins " 
Well, you've won ' the toss,' 
You see, 



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The Oxford 6^ Cambridge Boat Race. 

Whilst the Cantabs must fetch 
Their boats thro' a stretch 

That's as lumpy and cross 
As can be ; 
And the men are too big, and the boat's too light, 

But look ! by the bridge, a haven in sight — 
A smooth long reach that's polished and bright — 

And Cambridge may win if she can ; — 
And the squall's gone down and the froth is past. 
And you'll find it's the pace that kills at last— 

You must pull — do you understand % — 
So^put your backs into it — now or never — 

Jam home your feet whilst the clenched oars quiver, 
For over the gold of the gleaming river 
They're passing you, hand over hand : 
And a thousand cheers 
Ring in their ears — 
The muscles stand out on their arms like cords, 

Brows knit and teeth close set, — 
And bone and weight are beginning to tell, 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

And the swingeing stroke that the Cam knows well 
Will lick you yet. 
Cambridge ! Cambridge ! again — bravo — 
Splendidly pulled — now, Trinity, now — 
Now let the oars sweep — 
Now, whilst the shouts rise, 
And the stretched boat flies, 
And twenty thousand eyes and hearts 

Leap ! 
Stick to it, boys, for the bonny light blue, 

See how she lifts her bow — 
And its fluttering silk dasht with the spray 
Steals forward now : 
Cambridge for ever ! 

What ails the crew ? — 
What ails the strong arms, unused to wax dull? — 
And the light boat trails like a wounded gull * * *? 



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The Oxford 6^ Cambridge Boat Race, 

Stvamped ! swamped, by Heaven ; 
Beat, in the mid fight. 
With the prize in sight. 
As they were gaining fast, 
Row, Cambridge, -row ! 
Swamped, while the great crowd roared — 
Wash over wash it poured, 

Incli by inch — 
Does a man flinch ? 
Row, Cambridge, row ! — 
Stick to it to the last — 

Over the brown waves' cregt 
Only the oarsmen's breast, 
Yet, Cambridge, row ! 
One noble stroke, pulled all together — 
One more ! . . . and a long flash in the dark river, 
And the dark blue shoots past. 



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P0to foe got to tlje gngljtoit §lcbiefo. 




H ! Brighton 's the place 

For a beautiful face, 
And a figure that daintily made 
'Hry^r is; 

And as far as I know 
There's none other can show, 
At the right time of year — say November or so — 
Such lots of bewitching young ladies. 

Such blows on the Down ! 
Such lounges thro' Town ! 
Such a crush at Parade and Pavilion ! 



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Hoim we got to the Brighton Review. 

Such beaches below 
(Where people don't go), 
Such bathing ! Such dressing, — past Madame Tussaud 
No wonder it catches the million ! 

For bustle and breeze 
And a sniff of salt seas, 
Oh, Brighton's the place ! not a doubt of it ; — 
But instead of post-chaise 
Or padded coupes, 
If you had to get there a P excursionaise — 
I think you'd be glad to keep out of it ! 
With their slap dash, crack crash, 
And here and there a glorious smash 
And a hundred killed and wounded, — 
It's little our jolly Directors care 
For a passenger's neck if he pays his fare, 
"Away you go at a florin a pair, 
The signal whistle has sounded ! " 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

Off at last ! 
An hour past 
The time, and carriages tight-full \ 
Why this should be 
We don't quite see, 
But of course it's all a part of the spree, 
And it's really most delightful ! 
Crush, pack — 
Brighton and back — 
All the way for a shilling, — 
What 'prentice cit 
But doesn't admit, 
Tho' ten in a row is an awkwardish fit, 
At the price it's exceedingly filling? 

{CJiorus of Passengers.) 
Crash, crack, 
Brighton and back, 
All the way for a shilling, — 



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How we got to the Brighton Review. 

Tho' the speed be slow, 

We're likely to go 
A long journey before we get back d' you know, 
The pace is so wonderfully "killing"! 

Ho! "slow" d' you findl 
Then off, like the wind — 
With a jerk that to any unprejudiced mind 
Feels strongly as if it had come from behind-— 
Away like mad we clatter ; 
Bang — slap, — bang — rap, — 

" Can't somebody manage to see what has hap -f 

There goes Jones's head ! — no, it's only his cap — 
Jones, my boy, who's your hatter? 

Slow it is, is if? jump jolt 
Slithering wheel and starting bolt, 
Racketing, reeling, and rocking, — 
Now we're going it ! — jolt jump, 
Whack thwack, thump bump, — 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

It's a mercy we're all stuck fast in a lump, 
The permanent way is shocking ! 

Away we rattle — we race — we fly . . . 

Mrs. Jones is certain she's " going to die," 
(We've our own ideas on that point, you and I, 

Some ' smoking ' abaft the funnel ! ) 
Screech scream — groan grunt — 

Express behind, and Luggage in front, — 
If we have good luck, we may manage to shunt 

Before we get into the tunnel ! 

(Chorus of Passengers.) 
Jump, jolt, 
Engines that bolt, 
Brighton and back for a shilling — 
Jolt jump — but we've children and wives. 
Thump bump — who value our lives. 
And you won't catch one here again who survives 
The patent process of killing ; 



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How 2ve got to the Brighton Rei'iew. 

{^Chorus of Directors.) 

With our slap dash, crack crash, 
And here and there a glorious smash, 
And a hundred killed and wounded ! — 
It's little we jolly Directors care 
For a passenger's limbs if he pays his fare. 
So away you go at a florin the pair : 
The signal whistle has sounded ! 




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15 



|iji> tre lUIlffleurs. 

A RIGMAROLE. 




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NCE on a: time, 

When pigs were swime, 
(I must have the m or else 

it won't rhyme,) 
And hogs they went without 
" noses," 
In the violet air 
Of some sunny parterre 
(Immaterial where, but on this side of there) 
Bloomed Ivy the fair 
De Millefleurs Saint Omer, 



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Itv de Millefleitrs. 

In an island of lilies and roses. — - 

'Twould have made you stare 
To examine her hair- 
It was all grown of red and white posies. 

Young hyacinth locks ! 
For each lover she docks 
A tress like a garland of liowers, 
All wreathed in a braid 
By some witchery's aid 
That's warranted never to fade 
(So the maid 
Says) whilst sun follows shade, 
And the sprayed 
Rain comes down on her head thro' the bowers - 

I'm afraid 
She must want a great number of showers ! 

For her lovers, I mean, — 
For herself, sweet sixteen, 



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Puck on Fe^:;asiis. 

Countess June, Duchess Summer, perennial May-queen, 
The skies all seemed taken with dropsies; 
And morn, noon, and e'en 
They kept her so green 
No velveteen ever was seen, or moreen. 
Or betwixt and between. 
In colour or sheen, 
Like the satin-soft leaves in her short crinoline 
As she glittered about thro' the copses f 
I ween 
You'd have been 
In despair if you'd seen 
Those small feet at the mercy of wopses ! 

(Not to lean 
On a hand the reverse of Miss Topsy's.) 

But tho' exquisite paws 
Palpitations may cause 
When they're white as the lilies of Youzzum, 
And fairy-like feet 



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Ivy de Millefleurs. 

Are remarkably neat, 
They won't act, comma voiis dites, 
For a pulse that don't beat — 
I repeat, 
Nymphs tho' sweet 
Can't be reckoned complete 
When they've not got a heart in their bosom. 

But never mind, Ivy ! 
The peerless in bloom, 
Sleeping bewitchingness, dreaming perfume, 
In your own little isle of delight, love, 
If your heart is but small 
You've got beauty for all. 
And who says you're not in the right, love ? 
Tears never made a heart live, love ; 
Smiles you have showers to give, love ; 
And the wreaths of your spells 
Are all Immortelles, 
For they've nothing that time cares to blight, love. 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

So bloom away, Ivy, 
And Ivy shall bloom, 
Glimmering sweetnesses, shedding perfume, 
In her own fairy isle of delight, love. 
If she'd no heart at all, 
I would still be her thrall, 
And swear I was perfectly right, love, — 
Wouldn't you, 
Sweetheart, too % . . . . 
No? • 
Then there's ... for a rosy goodnight, love ! 




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®ljc ^iDab at tfje ($xmi ^^l^xhiimx. 




' H, who is this stranger so black, 
This Toad in the very small 
hole, 
That ages since grew in the crack 
Of the tree that's now grown 
into coal ? 

It's clear he Avas famous of yore, 

His blood is the sangre azul ; 
His quarters are vert pique' noir, 

And his arms hoppant a la Grenouille ! 



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Puck oil Pegasus. 

Then what awe must each bosom o'erspread 
As we gaze on that petrified bark ; 

On the bust of this quaint figure-head 
That has yachted with Noah in the ark : 

When we think that these somnolent eyes 
With morning primseval awoke, — 

That this solo (though sweet for its size) 
Preluded Lab'rinthodon's croak I 

Come Mammoth and Mastodon back, 

Iguanodon, Saurian grim — 
You may rattle your bones till they crack, 

But you can't hold a candle to him : 

Trap, oolite, granite, and gneiss — 

Here's a stratum will give you a hint ; 

Azoics, you're shelved in a trice, 
Sand, lias, stalactite, and flint : 



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The Toad at the Great Exhibition. 

Hence, Ammonites ! yield to yowx fate — 

You are gravelled for many a year ; — 
Quartz, silica, porph'ry, and slate, 

Walk your chalks I you'-se no chance with what's here. 

For there's nothing in bone or in shell 

So ancient the savans can show, 
As the ' restes ' of this black little swell — 

As the case of poor Johnny Crapaud ! 







Soiicf of In-ilje-Maltr 





t^gj^ ^^fc HEN the summer night 
descended, 
Sleepy, on the White- 
witch water, 
Came a lithe and lovely 
maiden, 
Gazing on the silent water — 

Gazing on the gleaming river — 
With her azure eyes and tender, — 
On the river glancing forward, 
Till the am'rous wave sprang upward, 



24 



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S.o//g of In-the- Water. 

Upward from his reedy hollov/, 

With the Uly in his bosom, 
With his crown of water-Hhes — 

Curhng ev'ry dimpled ripple 

As he sprang into the starlight, 

As he clasped her charmed reflection 

Glowing to his crystal bosom — 
As he whispered, " Fairest, fairest, 
" Rest upon this crystal bosom ! " 

And she straightway did according : — - 

Down into the water stept she, 

Down into the wavering river. 
Like a red deer in the sunset — 
Like a ripe leaf in the autumn : 
From her lips, as rose-buds snow-filled, 
Came a soft and dreamy murmur, 
Softer than the breath of summer. 
Softer than the murm'ring river. 
Than the cooing of Cushawa, — 



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I'nck on Pegasus. 

Sighs that melted as the snows melt, 
Silently and sweetly melted ; 

Sounds that mingled with the crisping 
Foam upon the billow resting : 

Yet she spoke not, only murmured. 

From the forest shade primeval, 
Piggey-Wiggey looked out at her ; 

He, the very Youthful Porker — 
He, the Everlasting Grunter — 
Gazed upon her there, and wondered ! 

With his nose out, Rokey-pokey— 

And his tail up, Curleywurley— 
Wondered what on earth the joke was. 
Wondered what the girl Avas up to — 
What the deuce her little game was — 
Why she didn't squeak and grunt more ! 

And she floated down the river, 
Like a water-proof Ophelia — 
For her crinoline sustained her. 



26 




To face p. 26. 



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^\n gu Cbatlht Coiriraijcvsn. 



{A/At the "■ Stiappiiio- Turtle'''') 




AVE you read B. P. Du 

Chaillu ? 

Chaillu of the Big 

Baboon % 

A He who slew the 

fierce Gorilla 
|m In the Mountains 
■ of the Moon ? 



All day long that injured person 
Rested on the boughs his chin ; 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

Strangling spifflicated niggers 
Just to keep his biceps in. 

Nightly several score of lions 
Yielded up their worthless lives ; 

And there was a cry in Mickbos, 
For the King had lost his wives. 

Wrathful was the sable monarch 

At their unexpected hops ; 
For the brute had cooked the gruel 

Of the Nymphs who cooked the chops 



Thro' this land of death and danger, 
Mandrake-swamp and stagnant fen, — 

Where the spiders look like asses, 
(And the asses grow like men) — • 



28 



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The Du Chailiii Controvci'sy. 

Where the Shniego-Bmouve sitteth 
Hairless underneath his hat, 

And a white man is a dainty 
Irresistible if fat, — 

Where the alligator gambols — 

Whale-like — in the black lagoon ; — 

Went unscathed B. P. Du Chaillu, 
Chaillu of the Big Baboon ! 

Found the Bmouve'-Shniego sitting, 
Lengthwise, in the stagnant brake, 

Saw thex spiders — saw the asses — 
(When he gazed into the lake) — 

Twigged the Crocodile stupendous, 
Winking with ferocious eye, — 

Caught the Cannibals — the feasters 
On cold missionary pie ; — 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

Shot, and bagged, the fierce Gorilla, 
To the music of the drum, — 

Heard, fifteen miles off, his roaring, 
Mellowed to a ajentle hum ! 



What, you doubt me ! gen'rous public. 
Hear me swear it's no take in — 

Owen says the throat's a larynx, 
And look here's the beggar's skin ! 




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(ANOTHER VERSION.) 
{To the Tunc of "Yankee Doodle Danhv.' 




OW listen, all you 'possums, 

And you angeliferous blossoms, 
'Bout the cruizin' of a clipping craft 
I'll tell yer, O; 
The stars and stripes she bore 
Floatin' gaily at the fore, 
And her name it was John Murray's 
ship Gorilla, O ! 



The Skipper was Du Chally, 
(Twigg the likeness to Sir Ralleigh X) 



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Puck on Pegasus. 

To extinguish Bruce and Duncan just the feller. O ; 
. Sez he, " My lads, set sail ! 
" Give her bunting to the gale — 
" Who'll dare tread upon the tail of my Gorilla, O ! 



" Our decks what loafer climbs % 

" Here's a spankin' ' puff' by Times 
" Comin' curlin' down her topmast like a wilier, O ; 

"The Trade monsoon's arisen! 

" Shake a reef out of the mizen — 
" And success to tight John Murray's ship Gorilla, O ! 



But whilst they was imbibin'. 

And a chaft"'rin' and a gibin', 
And Du Chally was a chucklin' like to beller, , O ; 

Came something hard and black, 

With an ark'ard kind of 'thwack,' 
Just amidships of John Murray's ship Gorilla, O ! 



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John Murray'' s Ship Gorilla. 

When right in front appearin' 

With redoubted Gray a steerin' 
Rushed the 'Tizer and the Blazer mad to sell her, O ; 

" Luff Ho ! " their captain cried, 

" Give the Yankee a broadside, 
" Here's a settler for John Murray's ship Gorilla, O." 

Then each man stood to his gun, 

And they blazed away like fun 
Whilst Du Chally tugged and twisted at the tiller, O ; 

Like Armstrong's ninety-eights 

They pounded in his 'plates,' 
And the figure-head of J.M. S. Gorilla, O ! . 

Down came his flag a mucker 

And they fancied he had struck her, 
And the skrimmagin' and pepperin' grew shriller, O ; 

But Du Chally cried "Avast! 

" Nail her colours to the mast, 
" Lads, you hav'n't seen the last of the Gorilla, O ! " 



4fy — >- 



{i4— _ . ^_E^ 



Puck on Pegasus. 

So scarcely had he spoke, 

When a loomin' thro' the smoke, 
All a flashin' and a bangin' 'nough to kill yer, O ; 

Comes Murchison and Owen, 

With a jolly squad in towin', 
Bearin' down to help John Murray's ship Gorilla, O ! 

Smart " liners " in variety 

As hail'd t' the R'yal Society, 
All a ridin' so majestic on the biller, O ; 

Aloft the signal ran 

*' The R.S. 'spects every mau 
" Will show fight for stout John Murray's ship Gorilla, OP' 

Fire flashed from Owen's eyes, sir, 

As he gave the martial 'Tizer 
A hot shot twixt wind and water, like to fill her, O ; 

And Sir Rod'rick com'd and chaff"'d 

As he raked her fore and aft, 
Side by side with brave John Murray's ship Gorilla, O ! 



34 



nfH-^- 



4H — 0- 



John Murrafs Ship Gorilla. 

It would take a week to tell you 

How they went at it pellmello, 
And the Blazer and the 'Tizer got a spiller, O ; 

How gallant Captain Gray 

From a roar, changed to a bray, 
And tried the long-bow on John Murray's ship Gorilla, O. 

So I'll leave it an hiatus 

For S. Hubert, his afflatus, 
And with Owen a curvetting tit to thrill yer, O, — 

Chally tootin' of his horn — 

Gray still sticking to his stern — 
Drop the curtain on John Murray's ship Gorilla, O. 



>-f« 

35 



fH — 0- 



-0 — m 



Cb Jfi^Ijt for i\}t CljampioiTsMp. 

[as told by an ancient gladiator to his great grandmother.] 



ARGE Heenan of Renicia, 

By ninety-nine gods lie swore, 
I'liat tlie briglit Belt of England 
Should grace her sons no 
more. 
By ninety-nine he swore it, 

And named the " fisting " 
day. — 
" East and west and south and north," 
Said Richard Mayne, "ride forth, ride forth, 
" And summon mine array." 

II, 
"Ride forth by heathy Hampshire, 
" Of ' chalk-stream-studded ' dells, 




iH — c- 



-0 — HtJ 



-0 — w 



The Fight for the Championship. 

"And wake the beaks of Eversley 

" Where gallant Kingsley dwells ; 
" Spur fast thro' Berkshire spinneys, 

" The broad Hog s Back bestride, 
" And if the White Horse is scoured 

" Mount up amain and ride : 
^'Spur, spur, I say, thro' England 

"As the Giaour once spurred thro' Greece, 
" Tho' Sayers were six he cuts his sticks, 

" And Dickon keeps the peace." 

in. 

Fast, fast, thro' town and hamlet 
■ The smart Detectives flew — 
East and west and south and north 

They watched the long day thro'. 
West and north — east and south 

The word went flashing by, 
" Look out for Sayers and Heenan. 

" Policemen — mind your eye !" 



37 



fH — 0- 



-# 



Fuck on Pegasus. 

IV. 

Sir Richard's bold moss-troopers 

Looked out uncommon keen, 
From park and plain and prairie, 

From heath and upland green ; 
From Essex fens and fallows, 

From Hampshire — dale and down— 
From Sussex' hundred leagues of sand. 
To Shropshire's fat and flowery land, 
And Cheshire's wild and wasted strand, 

And Yorkshire's heather brown ; 

And so, of course, the fight came off 

A dozen miles from Town. 



Then first stept out big Heenan, 

Unmatched for breadth and length ; 

And in his chest it might be guessed, 
He had unpleasant strength. 



38 




To face p. 



r{j4— ♦- 



The Fight for the Championship. 

And to him went the Sayers 

That looked both small and thin, 
But well each practised eye could read 
The "lion and the bull-dog" breed, 
And from each fearless stander-by 
Rang out that genuine British cry, 
" Go in, my boy, — and win ! " 

VI. 

And he went in — and smote him 

Through mouth-piece and through cheek 
And Heenan smote him back again 

Into the ensuing week: 
Full seven days thence he smote him, 

With one prodigious crack, 
And th' undaunted Champion straight 
Discerned that he was five feet eight, 

When flat upon his back : — 
Whilst a great shout of laughter 

Rose from the Yankee pack. 



39 



■o — m. 



Fuck on Pegasus. 

VII. 

As from the flash the bullet, 

Out sprang the Champion then, 
And dealt the huge Benician 

A vast thump on the chin ; 
And thrice and four times sternly 

Drove in the shattering blow ; 
And thrice and four times wavered 

The herculean foe ; 
And his great arms swung wildly, 

Like ship-masts, to and fro. 

VIII. 

And now no sound of laughter 
Was heard from either side, 

Whilst feint, and draw, and rally. 
The cautious Bruisers tried ; 

And long they sparred and countered, 
Till Heenan sped a thrust 

So fierce and quick, it swept away 



^^^f—O 0— ffi 

40 



The Fight for the Championship. 

Th' opposing guard like sapling spray, — 
And for the second time that day 
The Champion bit the dust. 



Short time lay English Sayers 

Upon the earth at length, 
Short time his Yankee foeman 

Might triumph in his strength ; 
Sheer from the ground he smote him 

And his soul went with the blow — 
Such blow no other hand could dash — 
Such blow no other arm could smash — 

The giant tottered low ; 
And for a space they sponged his face. 

And thought the eye would go. 



Time's up ! — Again they battle ; 
Again the strokes fly free ; 



41 G 



<> 



-0 — Hi; 



Puck on Pegasus. 

But Sayers' right arm — that arm of pride- 
Now dangles pow'rless by his side, 

Plain for all eyes to see ; 
And thro' that long and desperate shock- 
Two mortal hours on the clock — 
By sheer indomitable pluck 

With his left hand fought he ! 



XI. ■ 

With his left hand he fought him, 

Though he was sore in pain, — 
Full twenty times hurled backward, 

Still pressing on again ! 
With his left hand he fought him, 

Till each could fight no more ; 
Till Sayers could scarcely strike a blow, 
Till Heenan could not see his foe — 
Such fighting England never knew • « 

Upon her soil before ! 



42 



tfi±-0- 



The Fight for the Championship. 

XII. 

They gave him of the standard 

Gold coinage of the realm, 
As much as one stout guardsman 

Could carry in his helm ; 
They made him an ovation 

On the Exchange hard by, — 
And they may slap their pockets 

In witness if I lie. 

xni. 

And every soul in England 

Was glad, both high and low, 
And books were voted snobbish. 

And " gloves " were all the go ; 
And each man told the story, 

Whilst ladies' hearts would melt, 
How Sayers, the British Champion, 

Did battle for the Belt. 



43 



{34— <- 



iiA — 0- 



-0 — m 



Puck on Pegasus. 

XIV. 

And still, when Yankees swagger 

Th' almighty "stars and stripes," 
And put eternal bunkum 

Into their neighbours' pipes— 
With joke and gibe and banter 

Long shall the tale be told, 
How stout Tom Sayers kept the Belt 

And Yankee Doodle sold ! 




-v-B 



44 



^M — ^- 



-o—±ih 



lln 1 




ran. 



H ! pause awhile, kind gentleman, 
Nor turn thy face away ; 
There is a boon that I must ask, 
A prayer that I would pray. 

Thou hast a gentle wife at home? 

A son — perchance like me — 
And children fair with golden hair 

To cling around thy knee ? 

Then by their love I pray thee, 
And by their merry tone ; 

By home, and all its tender joys, 
Which I have never known, — 



'iU—^- 



->— |4p 



i^ 



45. 



AS— <> — ■>— B"^ 



Pjick on Pegasus. 

By all the smiles that hail thee now ; 

By every former sigh ; 
By every pang that thou hast felt 

When lone, perchance, as I, — ■ 

By youth and all its blossoms bright, 
By manhood's ripened fruits, 

By Faith and Hope and Charity — 
Yer'll let me clean yer boots ! 




^^-< — >-i^ 

46 



poto tj)^ gau0bters tonu botoit at gunooit. 



{By R—h—t S—ih—y.) 



" There statidytk on the one side of Dunoon, a hill or moleock of passynge 

steepnesse, and right slipperie tvithal ; ivherenpon, in gaye times, 

y' youths^ and y' maidens of that towne do exceedingly 

disport themselves a?id take their plcasannce ; 

runnynge both upfe and downe with great 

glee and joyonsnesse, to the much 

endaiigernient of their fair 

nekkes." 

Kirke's Memoirs. 




OW do the Daughters 
Come down at Dunoon? 



W^^ 



-0 Hi. 



47 



-0- 



Piick on Pemsiis. 







Daintily : 






Gingerly : 






Tenderly ; 

Fairily ; 

Glidingly, 

Slidingly, 

Slippingly 
, Trippingly 

Skippingly 

Clippingly ! — 
Dashing and flying. 
And clashing and shying, 
And starting and bolting. 
And darting and jolting. 
And rushing and crushing, 
And leaping and creeping, 


< 

E 


ff . 






EJ ^ 


48 




'J'l'/ncr /i. 4y. 



rtH ' H^ 



How the Daughfeis come down at Dunoon. 

Feathers a-flying all — bonnets untying all — 
Crinolines rapping and flapping and slapping all, 
Balmorals dancing and glancing entrancing all, — 

Feats of activity — 
Nymphs on declivity — 
Sweethearts in ecstasies — 
Mothers in vextasies — 

Lady-loves whisking and frisking and clinging on 
True-lovers puffing and blowing and springing on, 
Flushing and blushing and wriggling and giggling on, 
Teazing and pleasing and wheezing and squeezing on, 
Everlastingly falling and bawling and sprawling on, 
Flurrying and worrying and hurrying and skurrying on, 
Tottering and staggering and lumbering and slithering on, 

Any fine afternoon, 

About July or June 

That's just how the Daughters 

Come down at Dunoon ! 



49 



iir\—0- 



-0 — HY 



iH — o- 



* Clje ioef Clcrs^' 



(717;'. "Barney Maguire^ s'' Account.) 



^ CH ! botheration! what a perturbation 

And exasperation in the Press arose, 

At the first mintion of the Queen's 

intintion 

To confer a pinsion on the Poet 

^ Close ! 

W There was the True-blues-man and 
the Farihin-newsvian 
All in the confushan fightin cheek by jowl ; 
And the Whigs and Tories forgett'n their furies 
In their indignation and giniral howl ! 



5° 




-0 — H\ 



riH K»; 



' 27ie Poet Close.' 

First the Tittle-tattle and the Penny-rattle 

Led off the battle with a puny squake, 
Whilst the Big- tin-kettle and the 'heavy metal' 

His hash for to settle took the liberty to spake ; — ■ 
" Shure 'twas most ongracious, not to say owdacious, 

"And enough to bring the wather to their eyes, 
'' To take the loaves and fishes from the chilthren's 
dishes, 

" And bestow the Royal Bounty in such wise ! 

"If so be that noble Er-rls and infarior chur-rls 

" Has parties they don't love and daresen't bate, 
" Let them squaze their purses to choke off the curses 

'• And not foist their verses on the Public State ! 
" 'Twas a worse than jobbery, and a right down robbery. 

" For to give the rufiian fifty pounds a year, 
" Becase the swate nobilities were dhreading his civilities, 

" And ould Lord Lonsdale in a state of bodily fear. 

"Themselves despiting, there was Carhsle writing, 
" And Brougham inditing of saft-sardering notes, 



H^i—o- 



5> 



rii] — >—ni. 



Puck on Pegasus. 

" And Viscount Palmerston a-chuckling at the harm he's 
done, 

" And dipping his fingers in the county votes. — 
" 'Twould be a wrong entirely, to be repinted direly, 

" If the scribbling blackguard on ' the List ' was placed, 
" And should the Legislature support the crature 

" Then for sartin shure the counthry was disgraced ! " 

So the papers thundered, and the paple wondered 

Whose nose had blundered into this hornet's nist ; 
And the Queen, Heav'n bless her ! the Roy'l Redhresser, 

Struck Close's name out of the Civil List. 
Och ! then, what a rowing and a rubadub-dow-ing 

And universal crowing filled the air, 
With a gin'ral hissing, — but Lord Pam was missing, 

And makin for the house-top by the garret stair ! 



-^ — 0— o — h$| 

52 



fH *- 



OST, stolen, or strayed ! — Goodness only 

knows which — 
A confoundedly ugly terrier bitch. 
Coat short, fore-legs long, colour mud" 
dyish black. 
(Item — bites freely:) no hair on the back : — 
AVhoso brings the above to Old-Lady Place East, 
Will be rewarded ! ! (by getting rid of the beast). 





iU — 0- 



-0 — B3; 



53 



{jj — — Hy 



#ur Slucct llccnuttncj; Scrgeanis. 

'■'■Down before his feet she knelt, 
Her locks of gold fell o'er her." 

EDWARD AND PHILIPPA. 




iH 0- 



o'f VV\- OME look from the window with me, 

Charley love, 
They are marching this way thro' the 
gloom ; 

With clatter of steel, 
And echoing peal, 
And a ringing reverb'rating hum 

As they come ; 
To the tuck of the Volunteer drum. 

'Tis the tuck of the Volunteer drum — 
Our own Volunteers, Charley mine, — 

See, now their arms glance ! 

" Front form ! — left — advance ! " . 
As the long column wheels into line 

It's divine 
To watch how their bayonets shine. 



54 



nfH— o- 



Oiir Sweet Recniiting Sergeants. 

From village and town they have drawn, 
They've gathered from lowland and height, — 

Their lasses have braced 

The steel to their waist, 
And armed them for England and right, 

and to fight 
For the banner that's waving to night. 

Gallant hearts ! they are bound to our own, — 
They are linked by each tie that endears, — 

By hopes and by pray'rs — 

By smiles and by tears- 
Long, long ring those shouts in our ears I 

Hark, three cheers — 
Three times three for our brave Volunteers ! 

Adieu ! the bright pageant grows dark, — 
Their ranks are beginning to fade — 

The last glimmer dies . . . 

There's a mist in my eyes — 



-0 H} 



:CH — 0- 



-O— HSn 






Piick on Pegasus. 
Their voices come faint thro' the shade, 

That's good night to our Rifle Brigade ! 



I'm afraid 




-0— ftp 



56 




lo fncr p. 56. 



pfO — 0— — ■ c — h?; 



Sonnet. 

By H. C. PENNELL, 
To HIMSELF. 

(Substituted for that to Mr. Tupper in former editions. 




H Puck, O Pennell ! didst thou write a 
song 
To Martin Tupper, love of many a 
maid. 
Wherein thou pouredst vials hot and 
strong, 
And saidst some things more sweet to leave unsaid, — 
And did that wronged, but calm and jubilant swan, 
Stung with just wrath, thy vanities reprove, 
<^et with fair speech and less in hate than love 



L^j^ — — W; 

57 I 



fH — 0- 



i» 0- 



J^i/ck on Pegasus. 

Acting his own philosophy, heart-strong? — 
Then for thy sins, O Pennell, shalt thou sit, 
And with expiant agonies give birth 
To the worst Sonnet ever sung on earth, 
And it shall stand for that which thou hast writ : 
So shall thy breast of conscience-prick have ease, 
And injured Tupper poetize in peace ! 




ri It eked Jor roasting: 



-o—\^y 



58 



rEH — — — — m 



%h, Mb ? 




i 

HO comes so damp by grass and 

grave 

1 At ghastly twilight hour, 

And bubbles forth his pois'nous 

breath 

On ev'ry shudd'ring flow'r? 

Who dogs the houseless wanderer 

Upon the wintry wold ; 
And kisses — with his frothy lips — 

The clammy brow and cold? 

AVho, hideous, trails a slimy form. 

Betwixt the moonlight pale, 
And the pale, fearful, sleeping face? 



59 



-0 Vi\ 



iil 0- 



jPuck OH Pemsus. 



Our little friend— the Snail. 




^H — 0- 



-0 — H> 



-o-^ 



6o 



rfH— 0- 



-0 — Hi 



"Bnxlvf ^x'vah.' 



]iY A DYSPEPTIC. 




UNCH, sir? yes-ser, pickled salmon 

Cutlets Kidneys Greens. 

and " " Gammon ! 

Have you got no wholesome 

meat, sir? 
Flesh or fowl that one can 
eat, sir?'' 
" Eat, sir ? yes-ser, on the dresser 
Pork, sir " — " Pork, sir, I detest, sir " — 
"Lobsters?" "Are to me unblest, sir" — 
"Duck and Peas?" "I can't digest, sir" — 
"Puff, sir?" "Stuff, sir!" "Fish, sir?" "Pish, sir 1 " 
"Sausage?" "Sooner eat the dish, sir — 
Ifaf/i the Puppy charms for Briton ? 
Ccin the soul rejoice in Kitten ?" 



^H — 0- 



6i 



iiA — c- 



-0 — H^ 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Shrimps, sir? prawns, sir? crawfish? winkle? 

Scallops ready in a twinkle ? 
Wilks and cockles, crabs to follow ! " 

" Heav'ns, ?iof/iiug I can swallow ! " 

" Waitar : : " 
" Yes-sar." 
" Bread for twenty — 
I shall starve in midst cf plenty!' 




-0 — m 



62 



^iA-<- 



Sdjoo( "Jfcebs." 




"^^ Y, there they sit ! a merry rout 
As village green can show 
That were such Avoful little wights 
A summer hour ago. 

Such woful weary little wights! 

And very hungry too — 
x\nd now they look like sausages 

All smiling in a row. 



^1 



-0 — m 



-0 — Hy 



Puck on Pegasus. 

For they have fed on dainty fare 

This blessed August day, 
And ate — as only people eat 

When other people pay ! 

A pyramid of roasted ox 

Has vanished like a shot ; 
Plum puddings, brobdignag, have gone 

The second time, to pot ', 

Deluded fowls have come to grief, 

With persecuted geese ; 
And ducks (it is a wicked world !) 

Departed life in peas. 

My Lord and Lady Bountiful 
Have done the civil thing, — 

The lady patrons of the turf 
Have waited in the Ring ; 



<y — >■ 



-0 — BJ; 



64. 



ft" ^ 



School " Feeder 

The Grand Comptroller of the cake 
Can hardly hold the knife ; 

The milk-and-water Ganymede 
Is weary of her life ; 



Yet still the conflict rages round ! 

But now there comes a lull — 
The edge of youthful appetite 

Is waxing somewhat dull — 
And fat Fenetta bobs, and says 

" No, thank ye, mimi, — I'm ' ful ' ! 



Alone amid the festive throng 

One tiny brow is sad ! 
One cherub face is wet with grief — 

What ails von little lad? 



65 



iir] 0- 



iH — 0- 



P/u'k on Pegasus. 

Why still with scarifying sleeve 
That tearful visage rub? 

Ah ! much I fear, my gentle boy, 
You don't enjoy your grub ! 



You're altogether off your feed, 
Your laughing looks have lled,- 

Perhaps some little faithful friend 
Has punched your little head? 



You miss some well remembered face 

The merry rout among? 
The lips that blest, the arms that prest, 

The neck to which you clung? 
A brother's voice ? a sister's smile ? 

Perhaps — you've burnt your tongue? 



66 



n«H— o- 



School " Feeds!' 

Here, on a sympathetic breast, 
Your tale of sufif'ring pour. 

Come, darling ! tell me all 

" Boo-hoo ; — 
" I can't eat anv moie ! " 



/x 



. ^ 



' ,1, v'.^>\t/ 




-0 — H> 



T«H— »- 



67 



fH — 0- 



gtrbjj gajj. 




H ! who will over the Downs 

with me? 
Over Epsom Downs, and away — 
The Sun has got a tear in his 

eye, 
And the morning mists are light 
and high ; — 
We shall have a splendid day. 



And splendid it is, by all that's hot ! — 



68 




Derby Day. 

A regular blaze on the hill ; 
And the turf rebounds from the light-shod heel 
And the tapering spokes of the delicate wheel 
With a springy-velvety sort of a feel 

That fairly invites " a spill." 
Splendid, I say, but we musn't stop, 
The folks are beginning to run : 
Is yonder a cloud that covers the course ? 
No, it's fifty thousand — man and horse — 
Come out and see the fun. 



So — ^just in time for the trial spin ; 
The jocks are cantering out, — 
We shall have the leaders round in a crack, 
And a hundred voices are shouting "back," 
But nobody stirs a foot ! 
. There isn't a soul a soul will budge 
So much as an inch from his place, 
Tho' the hue of the Master's scarlet coat 



-0 — RJ 



{H-— 0— 9 — Hj; 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Is a joke compared to his face. 
"To the ropes ! to the ropes !" — 
Now stick to your hold, — 
A breezy flutter of crimson and gold, 
And the crowd are swept aside, — 
You can see (the brim of my hat in your eyes? 
Oh, nonsense — ) the caps as they fall and rise 
Like a swarm of variegated flies 
Coming glittering up the ride ; 
" To the ropes, for your life ! . . . Here they come . . 
there they go — " 

The exquisite graceful things ! 
In the very sport of their strength and pride : 
Ha ! that's the Favourite — look at his stride. 
It suggests the idea of wings : 
And the glossy neck is arched and firm 
In spite of the flying pace ; 
The jockey sticks to his back like glue, 
And his hand is quick and his eye is true, 
And whatever skill and pluck can do 



70 



iH — c>- 



r^H-^- 



Derby Day. 

They will do to get the race. 

The colt with the bright broad chest, 

Will run to win to day — 

There's fame and fortune in every bound 

And a hundred and fifty thousand pound 

Staked on the gallant Bay ! 



" They're off ! " . . . . 
And away at the very first start, 
'• Hats down ! hats down in front ! 
" Down there, you sir in the wide-awake ! " 
The tightened barriers quiver and shake 
But they bravely bear the brunt. 

A hush, like death, is over the crowd 

D'you hear that distant cry ? . . . 

Then hark how it gathers, far and near, 
One rolling, ringing, rattling cheer 
As the race goes dashing by, 



-0 — H3: 



71 



4 3-_0 . O-Bil 



Puck on Pegasus. 

And away with the hats and caps in the air, 
And the horses seem to fly ! . . . 

Forward ! forward ! at railway speed, 
There's one that has fairly taken the lead 
In a style that can scarce miscarry ; 
Over and on, like a flash of light, 
And now his colours are coming in sight, 
Favourite ! Favourite ! — scarlet and white — 
He'll win, by the Lord Harry ! ! 
If he can but clear the Corner, I say, 
The Derby is lost and won — 
It's a fearful shave, but he'll do the trick. 
Now ! Now ! — well-ridden — he's passing it quick, — 
He's round! . . . 

No, he isn't; he's broken his neck, 
And the jockey his collar bone : 
And the whirlwind race is over his head, 
Without stopping to ask if he's living or dead, — 
Was there ever such rudeness known ? 



4 



72 



-0 — m 



Derby Day. 

He fell like a trump in the foremost place- 
He died with the rushing wind on his face— 
At the wildest bound of his glorious pace — 
In the mad exulting revel ; 
He left his shoes to his son and heir, 
His hocks to a champagne dealer at Ware, 
A lock of his hair 
To the Lady-Mare, 
And his hoofs and tail to the devil. 




73 



6 



yorb Jollygre^a's Courtship. 



A POET WRITES TO HIS FRIK.ND. P/ace — COLNEY HATCH. T/tUc; — 
PROBABLY 'SATURDAY NIGHT ABOUT TWO O'CLOCK IN THE 
MORNING.' 



" Dear my jriend a)id fellcnv-student, I would lean my spirit o'er you ; 
" Down the purple of this chamber, tears should scarcely runat will."(!! !\ 




/() Ho, Ha Ha, He He,— Hum ! ! ! ! O 
Charley, let me weep adown your 
Manly bosom ! o'er that chamber, tears 
must surely run ad libi. — 



-0 — H\ 



-> — m 



74- 



nfH— «■ 



Lord Jollygreen' s Courtship. 

I'm a victim ! friend and pitcher ! — done incontinently 
brown — your 
Poet is immensely diddled by a — but narrabo tibi : — 



(There's a Lady, who writes verses, in the true spasmodic 

metre, — 
Better writes she, certes., better, than all women without 

end : 
Writes full darkly : — I defy all Bards alive or dead to 

beat her 
At a nubibustic stanza that no man can comprehend — 



Her sublime afflatus had I, and her noble scorn of 

rhyming, 
I could write you something tallish — should make Lindley 

Murray suffer, — 



o 



m— » — o-4ffi 

75 



tH — 0- 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Would she " lean her spirit" o'er me, in this rhympho- 

leptic climbing,* 
I would paint My Courtship in a style would make you 

stare, Old Buffer !)— 

You know, Charley, where I saw my Marianne (first) in 

Belgravia ; 
And (secundo) how I loved her, with more love than 

kith or kin do : 
Tertio how I won, and wed her yestermorn — and her 

behaviour 
You shall hear in five words — last night, she exodused by 

the window ! ! , 

O my Charley, you remember on that cold fifth of 
November, 

* " And in nympkoleptk clinibhig, poets pass from mount to star.". . 



76 _ 



jjj — — H': 



Lord Jolly greeris Courtship. 

As we sauntered slowly eastward, with the weed between 

our lips ; 
How Ave spied a damsel beauteous, lymphomatically 

duteous, 
{Id est: cook at Number 7, scrubbing of the kitchen steps) , 

Charley, you and I remember, on that bright fifth of 

November, 
How she knelt there like a statue, — knelt bare-armed 

in the breeze, — 
Whilst her saponaceous lavement catalambanized the 

pavement. 
And her virginal white vesture fluttered, reefed-wise, to 

the knees. 

Spell-bound in the road behind her, paused the Hurdy- 

Gurdy Grinder, 
Strangling in his aberration Jumping Jimmy the baboon ; 

iwr 0— 4S 



i a-^,. — ~— -«M^ i 



/^2/^/^ ^« Fegasus. 

Whilst the Genius of the Organ, fascinated by her Gorgon 
Beauty, stood enraptured — captured — playing wildly out 
of tune. 



Then with her blue eyes entrancing, and her taper ankle 

glancing, 
And her rounded arms akimbo resting on her dainty 

waist ; 
She half turned, — and turning threw me one glance 

"utterly to undo me" — 
(Well, I swear 'twas 7ne she looked at, Charley, and she 

showed her taste !) 



Evermore my soul beguiling, in arch silence she kept 

smiling — 
And my heart within my bosom, preternaturally hopped ; 
Still as near I drew, and nearer, fairer she grew and yet 

fairer (!) — • 



m—o -=_ — — >— ^ 

"78 



r^H— 0- 



4)4-^ 



• Lord JoHygreeji's Courtship. 

On both knees upon the pavement (Miles's bags, my 
Boy) I dropped. 




Then — but why should I confide you, what you know as 

well as I do ? 
How she looked up like an angel, (I can see her figure 

still!) 



79 



■0 — n\ 



-0— Hf 



Puck on Pegasus. 

"I am yours, sir, if you'll take me — if you'll marry me 

and make me 
"A fine Lady, or a Duchess— won't you?" "Jove," cried 

I, "I will!" 

How thenceforward every morning, wet and wind and 

weather scorning, 
By the steps of Number 7, punctual as the clock I past, — 
How my love grew daily stronger— strength'ning as the 

days grew longer — 
Till my Marianne consented, and we named the day at last. 

How my Queen of cake and curry volunteered a muffin- 

worryj 
How I fondly made my advent somewhat ere the time 

for spread, — 
And on going to the cupboard like a second Mother 

Hubbard, 
Found the same, not "bare," but fiU'd with six feet one 

of Horse Guards Red. 

•'Edward! 'tis niy only brother!" — "Silence, Madam — 
you're another : 



-0 \i\ 



\H — 0- 



-0 — Viy 



80 



-0 HJ 



Lord Jollygreeii s Courtship. 

" Come out of your cupboard, Lobster ! from your shell, 

O, private Brown, — 
" Slave ! (I said) base Kitchen-creeper ! (said I) I will 

close your peeper 1 
" I will tap your claret, Lobster, — I'll — " 




-but here he knocked me down. 



-0— RJ 



Si 



fi\ — : — Ht 



Puck on Pegasus. 

How, soon after, whilst at breakfast, she forgot the door 

to make fast, 
When a step was heard descending swiftly by the kitchen 

pair,— 
And a voice cried "Now I've caught her!" — "Gracious! 

jump into the water- 
" Butt that's standing dry and empty, underneath the 

laundry stair ! " 

(Not to make this tale a long one) How I jumped into 

the wrong one. 
Which just then stood dry, but ev'ry morn was fiU'd some 

eight feet deep, — 
How they pvimped the water in it, ere I'd been ensconced 

a minute, 
And I rushed back to the kitchen looking like a drownded 

sweep ! 

How, still chai-ned by Love the Fetterer, spite of cupboard 
and etcetera, 



m — 0- 



82 



rtH— »- 



4N— <- 



Lord Jollygreeri s Courtship. 

To Cremorne next day I took her, in a highly hberal 

manner ; 
Purveyed buns and ices satis, and a sherry-cobbler 

— grafts ! 
(Tho' you know I do not, Charley, love to separate from 

a tanner) — 

How, when ev'rything was paid for, fun and fireworks 

only stayed for ; 
And my Marianne had eaten ev'rything that she was 

able ; 
Whilst the Resonant Steam-Dragon* (that's the tea-pot), 

and the flagon 
Of Lymphatic Cow (that's milk), stood smiling on the 

arbor table, — 

" Might she just step out and find her parasol she'd left 
behind her? 

* " She has halls and she has castles, and the resonant Steam-Eagles 
"Follow far on the direction of her little dove-like hand." 



83 



iii — 0- 



I * 



-^-HJn 



iH — 0- 



J^//c/i on Pegasus. 

" Whilst I kindly poured the tea out, and the cream that 

look'd so yellow ? " — 
Yellow ? Ha, ha ! blue, green, sink it ! — She never came 

back to drink it : — 
I fell flunniioxed in a brown."' (study, understood, old 

fellow). 

Hot? well 'twas — but hearts arn't tin tacks (^mantiutn tree, 

vide syntax) 
Even then I couldn't spurn her, satin-tongued, soap-soft 

as silk, — 
Not a stone his heart could harden, so divinely asked for 

pardon : — 
I imbibed the obvious crammer mildly as my mothers 

milk. 

Viper ! (said I) — and forgave her : and she prorqised to 

behave her- 
Self in future like an angel (which she did, including 

wings) 

* . . . " I fell flooded in a dark." 



■(^-\^^ 




To face p. 85. 



Lord Jollygreeii's Courtship. 

And I fancied yestermorning (ass) that my reward was 

dawning, — 
So it was — and with a vengeance ! (ass again) But some 

one rings ? — 

Twas a cruel thing — but funny? — her eloping with her 

Honey- 
Moon just risen? — cutting, very, — and for rrie the world 

is dead. 
Slightly crushing to my hopes is this performance on the 

ropes ! Miss 
Marianne suspensa scalis — (would 'twere sus. per col. 

instead !) 

Ass that I was to be wedded ! — Wonderfully wooden- 
headed ! 

I'm a wiser man now, Charley, — certes, up to snuff — but 
sadder, — 

Oh, the fickle little Hindoo ! Facilis descensus window ! 



\ 'm • — ■'> — m 

85 



-0— 



Puck 071 Pegasus. 

Oh — that bell again ! what's this ? "'■" '•' 
^5 FOR THE Ladder ! 



A Bill of 




^^f-^ 



nfH— *- 



3^ t:iqbt. 



[" Fame must be conquered as a foe, not wooed as a mistress ; and 
strength— strength naked, inborn, inherent— is the one power that can 
conquer \\&x'"— Unwritten preface io '' Draiua'is Persoiue."] 




O you want to beat? — 

Do you want to win in the war? — 
To strike your root like a bar thro' the face 
of the rock and live, 

A name amongst men for ever? 
Strip : strip ! that's the word — 

No bar, no spell like that ; — 



87 



-3 — hi 



|U kf} 



Fuck on Pegasus. 

Strip ere you enter the lists, — 
Off with the flimsy fence, 
Away with the forge'd blade, 

Peel to the breast, bare. 
Then stretch your arms and set your teeth- 
Look, the throat of the foe — 

Clutch it, and down with him ! 




\a-o ~ — — — 0— k^ 



S¥ 



-0 — m. 



I^oi €mdi^l 



H ! whose, yon cottage by the 
brook, 

Yon cottage white and 
,Ar ■ clean ; 

'* "■^' Can'st tell me, little village 

For 'tis a pleasant scene ? 

'' y-T A pleasant and a lovely scene, 
AVhere innocence must dwell ; 
Where gentle-hearted peasants learn 
To love the sabbath bell. 

Not theirs the strife for vulgar wealth, 

For sordid gain unblest ; 
Their simple wants are all supplied 

From Nature's bounteous breast. 




m — 0- 



Puck on Pegasus. 

In peaceful labour flows their life 

Amid such scenes as these ; 
And ah ! methinks I spy a friend 

Beneath the chestnut trees, — 

A friend of man ! — that faithful friend, 
Whose patience ne'er doth fail, — 

Who lets the little Clodhoppers 
Play mildly with his tail. 

It is, it is I Behold the beast 

So rudely called an ass ! 
Behold the beast who doth rejoice 

In thistles more than grass ! 

Then tell me whose these rural sweets ?- 
These joys that toil reward ; 

The purling brook — the whisp'ring trees- 
The Edward on the sward — 



— K$: 

90' 






Not Exactly ! 

The cottage with the rustic thatch ? 

At length the urchin spoke — 
" That ere's where Fayther kills the pigs, 

"And yon's his Cat's-Meat Moke." 




iH — 0- 



-0 — \ki 



91 



-0 — m 



<> 

ii^ 0- 



ICim 0f ilje g^sn'teltr f nfliun^ccb. 




(How you speak through your Z>ose. ) 



DOE, doe! 

I shall dever see her bore ! 
Dever bore our feet shall rove 

The beadows as of yore ! 
Dever bore with byrtle boughs 

Her tresses shall I twide — 
Dever bore her bellow voice 

Bake bellody with bide ! 
Dever shall we lidger bore, 
Al)icl the ilow'rs at dood, 



9- 



& 



Lay of the Deserted Influenzad. 

Dever shall we gaze at dight 
Upon the tedtder bood ! 

Ho, doe, doe ! 
Those berry tibes have flowd, 

Ad I shall dever see her bore, 
By beautiful ! by owd ! 



Ho, doe, doe ! 

I shall dever see her bore, 
She will forget be id a bonth, 

(Bost probably before.) — 
She will forget the byrtle boughs, 

The flow'rs we plucked at dood. 
Our beetigs by the tedtder stars. 

Our gazigs od the bood. 
Ad I shall dever see agaid 

The Lily ad the Rose ; 
The dabask cheek ! the sdowy brow ! 

The perfect bouth ad dose ! 



^H — 0- 



-0 — Hi 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Ho, doe, doe ! 
Those berry tibes have flowd — 
Ad I shall dever see her bore, 
By beautiful ! ! by owd ! ! 




94 



rfif-«- 



^H-^ 



i^b UW 9^^l »ort[j. 



(EusTON Square 1840.) 




1^ I OW then, take your seats ! for Glasgow 
and the North ; 
^^^ Chester ! — Carlisle ! — Holyhead, — 
^"V and the wild Frith of Forth : 
■■ Clap on the steam and sharp's 
the word, 
"You men in scarlet cloth: — 

" Are there any more pas . . sengers, 
" For the Night . . Mail . . to the North ! " 



95 



-0 — m 



-c—Bc 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Are there any more passengers ? 

Yes three — but they can't get m, — 

Too late, too late ! — How they bellow and knock, . 

They might as well try to soften a rock 

As the heart of that fellow in green. 

For the Night Mail North? what Ho — 
(No use to struggle, you can't get thro') 

My young and lusty one — 
Whither away from the gorgeous town? — 

" For the lake and the stream and the heather brown, 
" And the double-barrelled gun ! " 

For the Night Mail North, I say?— 

You, with the eager eyes — 

You with the haggard face and pale? — 

"From a ruined hearth and a starving brood, 
"A Crime and a felon's gaol!" 



iJH — 0- 



-0 — Vi\ 



96 



rtH— « \^i 



27ic' Alg/ii Mail North. 

For the Night Mail North, old man? — 
Old statue of despair — 
Why tug and strain at the iron gate ? 
''My daughter ! !" 

Ha ! too late, too late. 

She is gone, you may safely swear ; 

She has given you the slip, d' you hear ? 

She has left you alone in your wrath, — 

And she's off and away, with a glorious start. 

To the home of her choice, with the man of her heart, 

By the Night Mail North ! 



Wh ish, R ush, 

Wh ish, R ush . . . 

"What's all that hullabaloo? 
Keep fast the gates there — who is this 
" That insists on bursting: thro' ? " 



97 



iU Ljh 



J^i/cVi on Pegasus. 

A desperate man whom none may withstand, 

For look, there is something clench'd in his hand — 

Tho' the bearer is ready to drop — 

He waves it wildly to and fro, 

And hark ! how the crowd are shouting below — 

<'Back!"— 

And back the opposing barriers go, 

" A reprieve for the Cannongate murderer^ Ho ! 

" In the Qiiee/is name — 

" STOP. 

" Another has confessed the cruney 

Whish — rush — whish — rush . . , 

The Guard has caught the flutt'ring sheet, 

Now forward and northward ! fierce and fleet, 

Thro' the mist and the dark and the driving sleet, 

As if life and death were in it; 

'Tis a splendid race ! a race against Time, — 

And a thousand to one we win it : 



#H — ' — K«— .= — .^ — ^. — ^ 

98 



The Night Mail NortJu 

Look at those flitting ghosts — 

The white-arm'd finger-posts— 

If we're moving the eighth of an inch, I say, 

We're going a mile a minute ! 

A mile a minute — for life or death — 

Away, away ! though it catches one's breath, 

The man shall not die in his wrath ; 

l"he quivering carriages rock and reel— - 

Hurrah ! for the rush of the grinding steel ! 

The thundering crank, and the mighty wheel ! — 



Are there any more pas . . sengers 
For the Night . . Mail . . to the North ? 




99 



^H— 0- 



{H-^>- 



-0 — Hi 



I 'be ICost nnt- 




EELER ! hast thou found my treasure,- 
Hast thou seen my vanish' d Fair ? 
Flora of the raven ringlets, 
Flora of the shining hair? 



Tell me quick, and no palaver. 
For I am a man of heat — ■ 

Hast thou seen her, X loo? 

Hast thou view'd her on thy beat ? 



lOO 



-0 — m. 



rfH— <- 



Pve Lost my 

Mark'd, I say, her fairy figure 

In the wilderness of Bow? 
Traced her LiUiputian foot-prints 

On the sands of Rotten Row? 

Out, alas ! thou answ'rest nothing, 
And my senseless anger dies ; 

Who would look for " speculation " 
In a boiled potato's eyes ? 

Foggy Peeler ! purblind Peeler ! 

Wherefore walk'st thou in a dream ?- 
Ask a plethoric black beetle 

Why it walks into the cream ! 

Why the jolly gnats find pleasaunce 
In your drowsy orbs of sight, — 



^y— <j- 



■iil~o o— B^ 



jP/uVc on Pegasus. 



Why besotted daddy long-legs 
Hum into the nearest light, — 

'Tis his creed, '■'■ non vii iicordo" 

And he wanders in a fog ; 
As that other peel, her- 

-Baceous, wanders in your glass of grog ;- 

Ah, my Flora ! (graceless chit !) O 

Pearl of all thy peerless race ! 
Where shall fancy find one fit, O 

Fit to fill tliy vacant place? 
Who can he the graceful ditt-o 

Ditto to tliat form and fiice ? 

Hence, then, sentimental twaddle ! 
Love, thy fetters I will fly— 



n;^j_« o— 1^ 



rfH— ^- 



I've Lost my ■ 

Friendship is not worth a boddle, 
Lost, alas ! I've lost — my Skye. 




A TAIL-PIECE. 



-0 — hfJ 



43+-0- 



■< — m 



:eH — ^ 



iH — o- 



CIj^ iriit Ciitsab^. 



(I'reach'd by Puck ye Poete against Paint and Pommade. ) 




DO you wish that your face should 

be fair? 
That your cheek should be rosy and 
plump ? 
Morning noontide and night 
Take a dip in the bright 
Wave that flows from the spout of 
the pump, — 

From a Pump ! — 
Not a dump 



104 



->— H': 



-« — Bi. 



The VIII Crusade. 

Do we care for the lily 
Pick'd in Piccadilly, 
Or grown by the " Camphorate Lump." 

Do you sigh for ambrosial hair? 
For clustering ringlets to match ? 
Little goose ! 
To the deuce 
AVith pommades, learn the use 
Of the BRUSH, and you'll soon have a thatch 
That shall catch 
The moustachio'd amasser 
Of Rowland's Macassar, 
At twenty-five shillings a batch. 

Is it ivory teeth you desire? 
A set that no dentist e'er trammels? 
To Rowland's 0-dont-o • 
Cry, " No, that we won't O, 
It softens the precious enamels !" 



105 



-0 — m 



Fuck on Pegasus. 

(Not Rachell's, but Schamyl's, 
Sent packing, confound it, 
To the Sultan Mahound, — it 
'S aic natiirel, perched upon Camels.*) 

Then toy not with powder and paste ! 
Sweet nymphs, they are deadliest foes ; 
No PivER persuade you — 
No Rowland invade you — 
In peace let each dimple repose 
Where it grows ! 
When he shows 
You his Kalydor Lotion, 
Reply, " We've a notion 

* No one ever seems to understand what this means : the author will, 
therefore, explain it. Thus :— Schamyl is or was the first chief of Cir- 
cassia, and as such had the felicity of supplying the Turkish Sultans with 
wives, who were sent to Constantinople]on camels (or if they weren't it's 
of no consequence). Well then, these Circassian girls have always been 
celebrated for their beautiful teeth- — enamel ate naturel, in fact, — you 
see ? 






io6 



^H— ^ 



# 



The VIII Crusade. 

" It takes all the skin off one's nose 1 " 

(As he goes) 
Add, " There's nothing can beat yours 

" For blist'ring the features 
But ' Atkinson's Milk of the Rose ! ' 




iW — c- 




tH— <- 



iH — 0- 






" A liltle charity for the love of Heaven." 




if'^iMlU^ 



ARK ! from St. Martin's— one 

— two — three . . . 
St. Paul's now — five —six — 
seven , . . 
And hark again 
How a deep tone strikes in — 
Seven — eight — nine — ten — 
eleven : 
The big bells sweep the heaven, 
Till the full choir, 
As from one broad swoll'n brim, swing midnight 
Into the silent air, 



1 08 



-0 — Hi 



-0 — m. 



The Crossing- Siveeper . 

And set St. Stephen's quivering, 

And the Great Globe shuddering 

In Leicester Square — 

The great round Globe, spike-girdled, — 

A child wa.s sleeping there. 



A boy, and small and ragged, 

His muddy broom lay near; 

How came he houseless, homeless, 

How came he to be here, 

With the dew glistening on his cheek? 

Or could it be a tear? 

Why pillowed thus so hardly 

Lay the once silken head? — 

And a small voice beside me, 

As to the thought unsaid. 

Replied, "He ain't got nothing 

To get himself a bed," 



-0 — Hfr 



109 



-5 — Hy 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Slowly from that cold pavement 

We roused the little man, 

And I was loth to wake him 

So low the hour-glass ran ; 

But the iced dawnwind swept the square, 

And shook the night dews from its hair, 

And a grey frost began . . . 

No knife straight to the marrow 
Like that sharp dawnwind goes, — 

The greasy mud grew blacker 
The sweltering gutter froze — 

And yet I paused, for in my mind 
A dim misgiving rose. 

A certain air of finish 

The whole scene clung about j 
A touch of melodrame, maybe, 

That woke a touch of doubt : 



^H — 0- 



-0 — H* 



Tfik-O- 



The Crossing- Sweeper. 

At any rate I waited 

For it seemed indicated 

That I should see it out 

And lo ! the infant tattered, 
But penniless no more, 
Had curled his small self up again 
Under the railings in the rain — 
He almost seemed to snore. 
I crossed . . . ttvo ragged imps lay coiled 
Where one had lain before ! 

Again I watched — ah, pity ! 

Where was the hand to have stayed? — 

In warm clothed, well housed Leicester Square, 

Five little bedless boys there were 

Along the pavement laid ! — 

They evidently fancied 

The " sleeping dodge " had paid. 



-0 — H\ 



©— — >-±i 



Puck on Pegasus. 

And yet I hope the very 

Next time that midnight dim 
Unveils a ragged urchin 
Crouched on the pavement grim, 
That something like a sixpence 
Will pass from me to him. 

It's not because imposturB 
May chance to reap our mite* 
That we should risk refusing 
Shelter from the pitiless night j 
Nor yet because the Poor-law 
Works with a niggard stint, 
That you and I are called oh 
To make our faces flint* 

Yet well i know that many 
A pious soul is vext. 
And thinks ' to give ' perdition 



-0 — R} 



llie Crossing- Sweeper. 

In this world and the next : 

"Refuse to him that asketh " 
Is how they read the text. 

But heed not thou, fair England, 

The pomps of other lands, 
Their palaces and temples 

Built up by hireling hands. 
Whilst in thy free soil rooted 
The free-will offering stands. 

The Hospital and Alms-house 

Where age may lay its head. 
And the sick man may be tended, 

And the starving man be fed, 
Are better shrines and prouder 

Than trophies blazed with gold ; 
And nobler worth than gorgeous piles, 

And pillared naves and glittering aisles, 
Where peoples' hearts are cold. 



m — 0- 



-o — m 



Puck on Pegasus. 

And of the thousand fame-scrolls 
Our English scutcheons lift 

I hold the grandest, best of all, 
That writing, plain on many a wall, 

Prophetic against fear or fall, 
" Supported by Free Gift." 




■0 — Bi; 



114 



-0 — m 



m MEDi^VOS. 




f)H — 0- 



F you love to wear 

An unlimited extent of hair 

Push'd frantically back behind a pair 
Of ears, that all asinine comparison defy — 
And peripatate by star light 
To gaze upon some far light 
Till you've caught an aggravated catarrh right 
In the pupil of your frenzy rolling eye, — 



115 



m — c- 



-0 — m 



Fuck oil Pegasus. 

Or if you're given to the style 
Of that mad fellow Tom Carlyle, 
And fancy all the while, you're taking "an earnest view" of things; 
Making Rousseau a hero, 
Mahomet any better than Nero, 
And Cromwell an angel in ev'rything except the wings : 
Or if you weep sonnets, 
Over Time, and on its 
Everlasting works of "art" and "genius" (cobweb wreath'd!) 
And fly off into rapture 
At some villanous old picture 
Not an atom like nature 
Nor any human creature, that ever breath'd, — 
Some Amazonian Vixen 
Of indescribable complexion 
And hideous all conception to surpass ; 
And actually prefer this abhorrence 



ii6 



nty— o- 



In Medicuvos. 

To a lovely portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence 
Why then, I think that you must be an Ass ! 




■o — \i\ 



■^\^\ 



117 



m — «•" 



'O—Hi 



i» 0- 




^hc McK of (iTrutb. 




'TWAS sunset — (much ill-used hour, 
Which difF'ring Poets tell you 
Is ev'ry shade from green to red, 
And Southey swears it's yellow)- 



And so I lay and smoked the weed- 
Immaculate Havannah ! — 

And watch'd a spider nobbling flies 
In an artistic manner. 



ii8 



rfi±-o- 



TJie Well of Truth. 

And mused in speculative vein 

On Englandj and her story ; 
Why Palmerston was dubb'd a Whig, 

And Derby was a Tory; — 

Why Manchester detested war, 
And cottons took deHght in ; 

Why Cobden's voice was all for peace, 
And Horsman's all for fighting ; — 

Why England sent our Bibles' store, 
To teach our pig-tail'd brother ; 

And gave him Gospel with one hand, 
And Opium with the other ; — 

And why tlie Church was always poor. 
And Lawyers lived in clover. 

And Avhy my tailor made me pay 

His last . . account . . . twice .... over 



119 



-0 — m 



£|-< —>—m 

Puck oil Pegasus. 

And why 

Perhaps it was the scent 

That hover'd round my bow'r ? 
Perhaps it was the gnats that haunt 

That soul-subduing hour ? 

Or else those little busy bees — 

Which sting one so severely — 
Made dreamy music round my head, 

Until I slept — or nearly : — 

But lo ! I floated on a pool, 

Beneath a monstrous funnel. 
Whose crowning disc shone faintly out, 

Like sun-light thro' a tunnel; 

And forms and faces quaint and strange 

Swept by me ev'ry minute ; 
And ev'ry breast transparent lay, 

And had a Avindow in it. 



A« — ■ o—H^. 



The Well of Truth. 

Then sudden through my mmd it flashed- 
What mania could have got 'em — 

The place was truth's historic well, 
And I — was at the bottom. 



And first I marked a sombre man 

Of aspect wondrous saintly, 
Whose pious eyes looked shocked and good, 

If Sin but -vvhispered faintly; 

And every Sunday in the plate, 

His clinking gold was given 
With such an air — the righteous vowed 

His alms had conquered Heaven ! 

And such his godly wrath 'gainst all 
Who betted, swore, or Hquored, — 

Old women said around his head 
An Angel halo flickered. 



-0 — RJ 



^H — >■ 



Piick on Pegasus. 

But looking through his heart I saw 
A blank, dark, nioral torpor, — 

And while he gave his princely alms 
He cursed the needy pauper. 

And all men grovelled at his feet 

With coax, and crawl, and wheedle ; — 

But I thought of Dives' burning tongue 
And the parabolic needle. 

And next I spied a priestly band. 

In cassock, cope, and mitre, 
Who diff'ring slightly from the Church, 

Lent all their wits to spite her, — 

With some who thought church-music gave 

The Devil grievous handles ; 
And some who lit Polemic War 

By lighting altar candles 



^u — _ — - — — >— Bfi 



rfH— 0- 



The Well of Truth. 

And one who held a certain place 

Most probable to get to, 
Unless he preached in a scarlet cloak 

And prayed in a falsetto — 

But one thing I could plainly read, 
Each pious breast displaying ; — 

The rev'rend men took more delight 
In quarrelling than praying ! 

They passed — and lo ! an Hebrew youth, 

To ebon locks confessing, 
The sturdy yeomanry of Bucks 

In honeyed phrase addressing. 

And so enthusiastic waxed 

The sleek bucolic charmer; 
As if his body, soul, and brains. 

Had all been born a farmer. 



123 



-0 — Hy 



: Puck on Pegasus. 

And he felt "glad" and ^' proud," he said, 

To meet his friends again— 
" His valued friends ! " — and in his heart 

He wished them all in Spain. 

And so he gave their right good health— 

And off it went in toppers ; 
And called them " Men and Patriots, 

And in his heart '* Clodhoppers."— 

And then — with very blandest smiles — 

From self and boon carousers, 
Gave prizes to some model louts, 

And one a pair of trousers ! !* 

And as he cried "Take, fine old man, 
" These best of merit's brandings," — 

* Vide "Times" of 4 Nov, 1857, giving an account of the meeting 
of the Amersham and Chesham Agricultural Association. 

O 9 



^f—O — — hf; 

124 



rEH 0— 0—tiy 



The Well of Truth. 

He thought, "Was ever such a Calf 
" On such thm understandings ! " 

Just then rolled by, so bluff and bold, 
A tar — from truck to kelson — 

And prophesied such vast exploits, 
Men cried— " Another Nelson ! " 

"You'll see," quoth he, "I'll shortly be 
In Heav'n or Cronstadt reckoned" — 

But never meant to chance the first, 
Or go too near the second. 

And then I lost him in the crowd, 
Nor could the question try on ; 

If I'd heard the voice of Balaam's ass 
Or the roar of Britain's lion ! 

But when I read what bumping things 
The hero had been saying, 



iSH^— o ' — -" — ="— — — W. 

125 




Puck on Pegasus. 

I thought 1 knew what Gray must mean 
By the din of battle braying, — 




** HEARD YB; the din OF BATTLE BRAY? 

The •■' Bard:' 



kH — e>- 



-0 — h\ 



-*— BJ; 



126 



^hh-<- 



f ails JDf i^ji Jfm« %xk. 




00 D gracious Julia ! wretched girl, 

What horror do I see? 
What frantic fiend has done the 
deed 
That rends your charms from 
me? 

Those matchless charms which like 
the sun 
Lit up Belinda Place — 
What fiend, I ask, in human mask 
Has DARED to black your face? 



H9 — hy 



127 



-0 Bi: 



-0 — m 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Your lips that once out-bloom'd the rose 

Are both of ebon hue ; 
Your chin is brown — your cheeks are green- 

Your nose is prussian blue ! 
This mOrn the very driven snow 

Was not so stainless pure, — 
And now, alack ! you're raore a black, 

Than any black-a-more. 

Some wretch has painted you ! Oh, Jove, 

That I could clutch his throat ! — 
That I could give his face a cuff. 

Who gave your face a coat : 
If there is justice in the land — 

But no — the law is bosh : 
Although it's true you're black and blue 

That remedy "won't wash." 

Revenge, I say ! yet hold, no rage — 
I will be calm, sweet wife — 



128 



Perils oj the Fine Arts. 

Calm — icy calm Speak, woman, speak 

That I may have his life ! ! 
Who did the deed? — 

" Oh ! Charles, 'twas you ! 

" Nay, dearest, do not shrink — 
" This face and chin ! — I've washed it in 

" Your Photographic Ink ! " 




A PORTRAIT (after BLACK-ALL); 



-0 H\ 



-0 h& 



129 



^i\-^- 



-O—Hi 



llej^deb ^!trbress^s . ' ' 




IR Toby was a portly party; 
Sir Toby took his turtle 
hearty ; 
Sir Toby lived to dine : 
Chateau margot was his fort ; 
Bacchus would have backt his 
port ; 
He was an Alderman in short 

Of the very first water — and wine. 



-0 — KtJ: 



130 



r^H— <- 



# 



Rejected Addresses. 

An Alderman of the first degree, 
But neither wife nor son had he : 

He had a daughter fair, — 
And often said her father, " Cis, 
"You shall be dubbed 'my Lady,' Miss, 

"When I am dubbed Lord Mayor. 

"The day I don the gown and chain, 
" In Hymen's modern Fetter-Lane 

"You wed Sir Gobble Grist; 
"And whilst with pomp and pageant high 
"I scrape, and strut, and star it by 
" St. George's in the East, you'll try 

"St. George's in the West." 

Oh vision of paternal pride ! 

Oh blessed Groom to such a Bride ! 

Oh happy Lady Cis ! 
Yet sjmrks won't always strike the match, 



131 



'fi\ — '■ — Hi 



Puck on Pegasus. 

And miss may chance to lose her "catch," 
Or he may catch — a miss ! 

Such things do happen, here and there, 
When knights are old, and nymphs are fair, 

And who can say they don't? 
When Worldly takes the gilded pill, 
And Dives stands and says " I will," 

And Beauty says " I won't ! " 

Sweet Beauty ! Sweeter thus by far — 
Young Goddess of the silver star, 

Divinity capricious ! — 
Who would not barter wealth and wig, 
And pomp and pride and otm7n dig, 
For Youth — when "plums" weren't worth a fig 

And Venus smiled propitious? 

Alas ! that beaus- will lose their spring, 
And wayward belles refuse to 'ring,' 



132 



-« — Bi; 



Rejected Addresses. 

Unstruck by Cupid's dart ! 
Alas that — must the truth be told — 
Yet oft'ner has the archer sold 
The 'white and red,' to touch the 'gold,' 

And Diamonds trumped the Heart ! 

That luckless heart ! too soon misplaced !- 
Why is it that parental taste 
On sagest calculation based 

So rarely pleases Miss? 
Let those who can the riddle read ; 
For me, I've no idea indeed, 

No rnore, perhaps, had Cis. 

It might have been she found Sir G. 
Less tender than a swain should be, — 

Young — sprightly — witty — gay ? — 
It might have been she thought his hat 
Or head too round or square or flat 

Or empty — who can say? 



-0 — m 



133 



tH — Hi 



Puck on Pegasus. 

What Bard shall dare? Perhaps his nose? — 
A shade too pink, or pale, or rose? — 
His cut of beard, wig, whisker, hose? — 

A wrinkle? — here — or there? — 
Perhaps the preux chevalier's chance, 
Hung on a word or on a glance. 

Or on a single hair. 

I know not ! But the Parson waited, 

The Bridegroom swore, the Groomsmen rated, 

Till two o'clock or near; — 
Then home again in rage and wrath, 
Whilst pretty Cis was rattling North 

With Jones the Volunteer ! 



^Jrl— <- 



134 




To face p. T34. 



^kh-^ 







WAY there, to the east— 

" Towards the Surrey ridge, — 
"I see a puff of dunnish smoke 
" Ovef the Southwark Bridge : " 
A single curl of murky mist 

That scales the summer air : — 
And the watchman wound his list- 
,-., ,^ less way 

Slow down the turret stair. 



London ! that deck'st thyself with wave-won spoils, 
Sea-gathered wealth, spires, palaces, 
And temples high, 



->— Hi- 



135 



\n-~o — 0—Br 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Well might thy goodly burgesses exclaim, 

" Behold— and die ! * 
" Behold these stfeets ; survey these monster marts, 

" The lotdly ^Changes of our merchant kings ; 
" Consider this great Thames, with its broad breast 
" BraVe with white wings. 

"Wharves, stately with warehouses, 
" Docks, with a world's treasure-chest in bail^ 
" What hand shall touch ye ? 
" What rash foe assail ? " . . < 

'■'• Fire t to the eastward — P'ire 1 1 " 

A hurrying tranip of feet 
A sickly haze that wraps the town 
Like a leaden winding-sheet : 
A smothering smoke is in the air — 

A crackling sound — a cry ! — 
And yonder, up over the furnace pot, 

* " See Naples, and die." — Italian Proverb. 



<> 



■0 — Bl: 



136 



-0 — H^. 



i» — c- 



" Fire ! " 

That smokes like the smoke of the cities of Lot, 

There's something fierce and hissing and' hot 

That hcks the very sky. 



Fire ! fire ! ghastly fire 1 

It broadens overhead ; 

Red gleam the roofs in lurid light 

The heav'ns are glowing-red. 

From east to west — from west to east ! 

Red runs the turbid Thames — 

" Fire ! fire ! the engines ! fire ! 

" Or half the town's in flames — - 
" Fire " 



A raging, quivering gulf 
A wild stream, blazing by . . . 
Red ruin . . . fearful flaming leaps . . . 
White faces to the sky .... 



137 



iiA — 0- 



-0 — m 



Puck on Pegasus. 

" The engines, Ho — back for your lives ! " 

The swarthy hehiiets gleam : 
Flash fast, broad wheel, 
Hold, wood and steel. 
Whilst the shout rings up. and the wild bells peal. 
And the flying hoofs strike flame. 
Stand from the causeway, horse and man. 

Back while there's time for aid, — 
Back, gilded coach — back, lordly steed — 
A thousand hearts hang on their speed. 
And life and death and daring deed • 

Room for the Fire Brigade ! 



-0 — BJ- 



138 



di\—o- 



■o — m. 



Mm, ^tjcr ^ 




us ! ever wus ! By freak of Puck's 
My most exciting hopes are dashed ; 

I never wore my spotless ducks 

But madly — wildly ! — they were 
splashed. 



I never roved by Cynthia's beam, 
To gaze upon the starry sky; 

But some old stiff-backed beetle came, 
And charged into my pensive eye : 

And oh ! I never did the swell 

In Regent-street, amongst the beaus, 
But smuts the most prodigious fell, 



139 



& 



-0 ft} 



5*. 



I'l/ck on Pegasus. 
And always settled on my Nose ! 




140 



Clrarge of tlje Stgljt (|nsb^) gri^ab^. 



(AW by A—f—d T—y-ti.) 




OUTHWARD Ho— Here we go !- 

O'er the wave onward, 
Out from the Harbour of Cork 
Sailed the Six Hundred ! 
Sailed like Crusaders thence, 
Burning for Peter's pence, — 
Burning for fight and fame — 
Burning to show their zeal — 
Into the gates of Rome, 
Into the jaws of Hell, 
(It's all the same) 
Marched the Six Hundred ! 



i+i 



■<^ — m 



Puck on Pegasus. 

" Barracks, and tables laid ! 
Food for the Pope's Brigade ! " 

But ev'ry Celt afraid, 
Gazed on the grub dismay'd — 

Twigged he had blundered ; — 

" Who can eat rancid grease ? 
Call ^h's a room a-piece ? " * — 

" Silence unseemly din, 
Prick them with bayonets in." — 
Blessed Six Hundred ! 

Waves ev'ry battle-blade. — 

" Forward ! the Pope's Brigade ! " — 

Was there a man obeyed ? 
No — where they stood they stayed, 



*A room for each man, and a table furnished from the fat of the 
land, were among the inducements reported to have been held out 
o the "Pope's own." 



142 



rfH— <5 ■ c — tii 



Charge of the Light {Jrish) Brigade. 

Though Lamoriciere pray'd, 
Threatened, and thundered — 

" Charge ! " Down their sabres then 
Clashed, as they turn'd— and ran — 
Sab'ring the empty air, 
Each of one taking care, — 
Here, there, and ev'rywhere 
Scattered and sundered. 

Sick of the powder smell, 

Down on their knees they fell ; 
Howling for hearth and home — 
Cursing the Pope of Rome — 

Whilst afar shot and shell 
Volleyed and thunder'd ; 
Captured, alive and well, 
Ev'ry Hibernian swell. 
Came back the tale to tell ; 

Back from tlie states of Rome — 



143 



iU . hEb 



I^ur/e o/i Pemsns. 



Back from the gates of Hell- 
Safe and sound ev'ry man- 
Jack of Six Hundred ! 

When shall their story fade? 

Oh the mistake they madei 
Nobody wondered, 

Pity the fools they made — 

Pity the Pope's Brigade — 
NOBBLED Six Hundred ! 




^p-^ __ — _____ -<— t^ 

144 



-0 — Hy 



iH — 0- 



C00 hnh, p0u kimfo. 



'{JVew Year's Eve, '58.) 




T was the huge metropohs 

With fog was hke to choke ; 
It was the gentle cabby- 
horse 
His ancient knees that 
broke ; — 



And, oh, it was the cabby-man 
That swore with all his might, 

And did request he might be blowed 
Particularly tight, 



H5 



-«— B* 



:eH— 0- 



->—±ih 



Puck on Pegasus. 

If any swell should make him stir 
Another step that night ! 

Then up and spake that bold cabman, 

Unto his inside Fare, — 
" I say, you Sir, — come out of that ! — 

" I say, you Sir, in there — 

" Six precious aggrawatin miles 
" I've druv to this here gate, 

" And that poor injered hanimal 
"Is in a fainting state ; 

" There aint a thimblefuU of light, 
" The fog's as black as pitch, — 

" I'm flummoxed 'tween them posteses 
"And that most 'atefid ditch. 

" So bundle out ! my 'oss is beat ; 
" I'm sick of this 'ere job ; — 



146 



-0— Bt' 



r£H— «- 



4f4-^- 



Too bad, yon know. 

"I say, you Sir in there,— d'you HEAR? 
* * * * 

''■He's bo /fed — strike vie bob /" 




-0 — m 



147 



Iho shies. 




ID you never hear a rustling, 
In the corner of your room ; 
^; When the faint fantastic fire-light 
Served but to reveal the gloom ? 
Did you never feel the clammy 
Terror, starting from each pore, 
At a shocking 
Sort of knocking 
On your chamber door? 

Did you never fancy something 
Horrid, underneath the bed ? 

Or a ghastly skeletonian. 
In the garret overhead ? 



o 

m — 0- 



-O—fiP 



148 




J't'/dCC />. I4g. 



rtH — 0- 



Ghostries. 

Or a sudden life-like movement, 
Of the 'Vandyke/ grim and tall? 
Or that ruddy- 
Mark, a bloody 
Stain upon the wall ? 

IJ)id you never see a fearful 

Figure, by the rushlight low, 
Crouching, creeping, crawling nearer- 
Putting out its fingers — SO ? 
Whilst its lurid eyes glared on you 
From the darkness where it sat — 
And you could not, 
Or you would not, 
See it was the cat ? 



# 



-0 Hi. 



149 



tH — *- 



-<^-b^ 




Milter loo iplace. 



iU — 0- 



W^l^T W— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw - 
W — Waterloo Place ? yes you 
r — take the first tut— -tut— tut — turning 
that faces you, — 
IaiI — left, — and then kuk — kuk — kuk,— kuk — 
kuk — kuk — keep up Pall Mall 'till you 

See the Wuw — Wuw — Wuw — Wuw 

Zounds, Sir, you'll get there before I 
can tell it von ! 




-o—fiP 



150 



jH — «■ 



C^^ glassam oi (Sknijo, 



H ROUGH deep Glenho the owlet 
flits 

That valley weird and lone ; 
The chieftain's aged widow sits 

Beside the bare hearth-stone. 

Beside the bare and blighted 
hearth 
Whose fires, now quenched and 
black, 
Had seen five gallant sons go forth, 
And never one come back. 




i» — 0- 



-0 — Hy 



151 



Puck on Pegasus. 

'Tis silent all ! but hark — a cry 

And ghastly clamours wake 
The midnight glen. Then rose proudly 

That ancient dame, and spake — 

" What mingled sounds of woe and wail 
" Up Mortham's valley spread ? 

"What shrieks upon the gusty gale 
" Come pealing overhead ? 

" I hear the pibroch's piercing swell, 
" The banshee's scream I hear, 

" And hark ! again that stifled yell — 
" The boderglas is near ! ! 

" The Boderglas with bloody brow 
" And tresses dripping red — 

" I see him at the window now 
" He shakes his gory head ! 



152 



-0— BH 




-0 — Hi; 



The Massacre of Glenho. 

"Then, daughter, to thy mothers arms, 

" Thus, thus, in close embrace, 
" The messenger of death we'll meet — 

" The slayer of our race. 
" Then do not weep, my daughter ! " — 

" Oh mother, 'tis not that — 
" But Donald Roy the carrotty boy 

" Has killed our Old Tom Cat ! " 




-0 — RJ 



'53 



#be to P^mpstijatr. 




H Hampstead ! cool oasis — 
iM No longer ' green,' alas ! — 

Where once a week, on Sunday, 
The Cockneys go to grass ; 

Where Donkey-boys still flourish, 
Unawed by Martin's Act, 



-0 — BJ; 



154 



di±—0- 



Ode to Hampstead, 

The lash that drives a squadron 
Promiscuously whackt ; — 

Upon whose hills the dust- wreath 
Comes down like the simoom, 

Beneath whose slopes the 'winkle 
Has a perennial bloom, — 

And whose once stainless waters 

Present the sort of look 
The sea did when the savages 

Plunged in at Captain Cook 5 — 

I love thee yet ! — Tho' tarnish'd 

Is ev'ry blade and leaf, 
Tho' Highgate Fields are bitterness, 

And Belsize Park is grief, — 

Tho' brick-kilns are unlovely, 
And railways banish rest, 



^tf-^- 



155 



iH — 0- 



Puck 072 Pegasics. 

And Omnibi are hateful 

» And Hansom Cabs unblest, — 

Whilst donkeys take the place of cows, 

And geese are abdicating, 
Whilst boys usurp the haunts of fish 

And ice-carts spoil the skating; — 

I love thee still ! — Thy benches, 
(When no East wind assails) 

Thy turf, sweet to recline upon — 
(When unengross'd by snails.) 

And never may thy blooming heath 

By Wilson be enclosed ; 
Still on thy lawn let fairy feet 

Disport them unopposed ; 

I love thee, O I love thee still ! — 
Yet must I fain confess 



156 



<H — 0- 



Ode to Hampstead. 

That ev'ry time I gaze above 
Thy spreading chimney-pots, my love 
Grows * beautifully less ! ' 




-0 — Bi: 



157 



lEH *- 



-0 HI; 




iU — 0- 



)nx ^XKbdkx, 

F thou wouldst stand on Etna's 

burning brow, 
With smoke above, and roaring 
flame below ; 
And gaze adown that molten 

gulf reveal'd, 
Till thy soul shudder'd and thy 
senses reel'd. — 



It thou wouldst beard Niagara in his pride, 

Or stem the billows of Propontic tide ; 
Scale all alone some dizzy Alpine /laut, 
And shriek " Excelsior ! " amidst the snow.—- 

Wouldst tempt all deaths, all dangers that may be, — ■ 
Perils by land, and perils on the sea, — 

This vast round world, I say, if thou wouldst view it,- 



158 



-0 R3; 



THEN WHY THE DICKENS ^ 
DOiMT YOU CO AND DO IT ? 




To face p. 158. 



iH 0- 



€lfxmBz l^ni^kB. 



THE WEDDING GIFT. 



In the name of Fo, 
Thus saith the shadow of Nobody. 



JwROM many a dark delicious ripple 
"''The Moonbeams drank ethereal tipple; 
Whilst over Eastern grove and dell 
The perfumed breeze of evening fell, 
And the young Bulbul warbling gave 
Her music to the answering wave. 



But not alone the Bulbul's note 
Bade Echo strike her silver lute, 
Nor fell the music of her dream 
Alone on waving wood and stream ; 




•0 — m 



o 

-0— fii: 



159 



Puck on Pegasus. 

For thro' the twilight blossoms stray'd, 
Enamour'd youth, and faery maid ; 
And mingled with her warblings lone 
A voice of sweet and playful tone. 

"Nay, tell me not of love that lights 

"The diamond's midnight mine; 
" The cold sea-gleaming of the pearl 

" Is only half divine. 
"No thought have I for gold or gem, 

" No 'best of high emprize \ 
" No giant Tartars to be slain, 

" In homage to my eyes." 

" Oh, take my life ! " her lover cried, 
" Nor break this dream of bliss ; 

" Take house, or head, or lands, or fame- 
" Take ev'ry thing but t/izs, — 

"To gaze upon those silken braids 



1 60 







rtH 0- 



^U—^ 



The Wedding Gift. 

" Unenvious be my part ; 
" I could not steal one golden tress, 

" To bind it round my heart. 
" Tho' all the pearls of Ind were strung 

" Upon a single hair, 
" I would not cut the shiner* off, — 

"I wouldn't, Za', I svvear." 



The lady laughed a careless laugh, — 
" While downward flows the river, 

" The lover who bids for Zadie's heart 

" And hand must make up his mind to part 

" With THE Gift, or part for ever ! " 



" Excruciating girl ! why pierce 
"A heart that beats for thee? 

"How can you want a Lock for which 
"You still must want a Key? 



i6i 



Puck on Pegasus. 

"Just think, if I should wear a wig, 
"How would you like me, Zadie? 

" I'm sure you'll give it up, my pig, 
" Do— there's a gentle lady ! " 



The Maiden laugh'd a silv'ry laugh ;— 
" The white stars set and shiver ; 

"The lover who bids for Zadie's heart 

" And hand must make up his mind to part 

"With THE Gift — or part for ever I" 




.0— Gii 



162 



-0 — Hi 



ETCETERA. 



HE stars were out on the lake, 

The silk sail stirr'd the skiff; 

And faint on the billow, and 

fresh on the breeze, 
The summer came up thro' the 
cinnamon trees 
With an odoriferous sniff. 
There was song in the 
scented air, 
And a light in the listening leaves, — 
The light of the myriad myrtle fly. 
When young Fo-Fum and little Fe-Fi 
Came forth to gaze upon the sky — &c ! 




1 61 



-0 Hi. 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Oh ! little Fe-Fi was fair, 
With the wreath in her raven hair ! 
With white of Hly and crimson of rose, 
From her almond eyes, and celestial nose. 

To the tips of her imperceptible toes &c. 

Fo-Fum stood tall, I wis, 

(May his shadow never be less !) 
A highly irresistible male. 

The ladies turn'd pale 

At the length of his nail 
And the twirl of his unapproachable tail &c. 

" Now listen. Moon-mine, my Star ! 

My Life! my little Fe-Fi, 
For over the blossom and under the bough 

There's a soft little word that is whispering now 
Which T think you can guess if you try ! 
In the bosom of faithful Fum, 
There's an anti celebic hum, — 






? 



—o- 



E teeter a. 

A little wee word Fe-Fi can spell, 

Concluding with ' E,' and beginning with ' L,' &c." 

'' Oh ! dear, now what can it be ? 
That little wee word Fo-Fum? 
That funny wee word that sounds so absurd 
With an '^' and an '/' and a '■hum I'' 
A something that ends with an E? — 
It must be my cousin, So-Sle ? 
Or pretty Zuzzoo 

Who admired your queue ? 

I shall never guess what it can be 
I can see 
That is spelt with an L and an E!" 

"Then listen. Moon-mine, my Life, 

My innocent little Fe-Fi ; 
It isn't So-Sle, tho' she ends with an E, 
And pretty Zuzzoo 
Who approved of my queue. 
Has no L in her name that I see ; — 



i6s 



Puck 071 Pegasus. 

" In the bosom of faithful Fum, 

It's a monosyllabic hum ; 
A sweet little word for sweet lips to try, 
That's half-and-half moonhght, and earth-light and sky. 
If little Fe-Fi 
Will open her mouth with the least little sigh, 
She must speak it — unless she was dumb ! " 



" Indeed ! then perhaps she is dumb : 
I vow I detest you Fo-Fum ! 
Why don't you . . . how dare you, I mean, sir, ah me ! 
I shall never guess what it can be 

I can see 
That is spelt with a L and an E ! 
I never shall guess, if I die — 
Fo-Fum, sir, I'm going to cry ! — 
Oh dear, how my heart is beginning to beat ! . . . 
Why there's silly Fo-Fum on his knees at my feet," &c. 



1 66 



-O — HJ; 



Etcetera. 

Deponent knoweth not, 

History showeth not, 
It the lady read the riddle ; 

And whether she found 

It hard to expound — 
As the story ends in the middle. 

Was gallant Fo-Fum 

Constrain'd to succumb 
To the " thrall of delicious fetters " ? — 

Or pretty Fe-Fi 

Induced to supply 
The text of the missing letters ? 

Oh, no one can tell ! 

But this extract looks well, 
Faute de mieux (that's " for want of a betterer ")- 

" Received : by Hang-Hi, 

" From Fo Fum, for Fe-Fi, 
" A thousand dollars " &c ! 



■ >-t$ 

167 



fH 0- 




-c — H3- 



1 68 



^ 




To face fi. 169. 



et 



IVkai the Prince of T Dreamt. 

It had a Dragon ; with a tail ; 

A tail both long and slim, 
And ev'ry day he wagged at it — 

How good it was of him ! 

And so to him the tallest 

Of all three-tailed Bashaws, 
Suggested that for reasons 

The waggling should pause : 

And held his tail — which, parting, 
Reversed that Bashaw, which 

Reversed that Dragon, who reversed 
Himself into a ditch. 

"•■ * v.- ■:.■ 

It had a monkey — in a trap — 

Suspended by the tail : 
Oh ! but that monkey look'd distress'd, 

And his countenance was pale. 

And he had danced and dangled there ; 
Till he grew very mad : 



169 



-0 — yti 



fir] — 0- 



J^uck on Pegasus. 

For his tail it was a handsome tail 
And the trap had pinch'd it — bad. 

The trapper sat below, and grinn'd ; 

His victim's wrath wax'd hot : — 
He bit his tail in two — and fell — 

And kill'd him on the spot : — 



It had a pig— a stately pig; 

With curly tail and quaint : 
And the Great Mogul had hold of that 

Till he was like to faint. 

So twenty thousand Chinamen ; 

With three tails each at least : 
Came up to help the Great Mogul 

And took him round the waist. 

And so, the tail slipp'd through his hands 
And so it came to pass ; 



170 




Tofnccp. 171. 



# 



What the Prince of I Dreamt. 

That twenty thousand Chinamen 
Sat down upon the grass : — 



It had a Khan — a Tartar Khan — 

With tail superb, I wis : 
And that fell graceful down a back 

Which was considered his. 

And so, all sorts of boys that were 

Accursed, swung by it : 
Till he grew savage in his mind 

And vex'd, above a bit — 

And so, he swept his tail, as one 
Awak'ning from a dream : 

And those abominable ones 
Flew off into the stream — 



171 



-<^-±ih 



Fuck on Pegasus. 

And so, they hobbled up and down, 

Like many apples there : 
Till they subsided — and became 

Amongst the things that were : — 



And so it had a moral too ; 

That would be bad to lose : 
" Whoever takes a tail in hand 

Should mind his p's and queues." 

I dreamt it ! — such a funny thing ! 

And now it's taken wing ; 
I s'pose no man before or since 

Dreamt such a funny thing ? 



[A "tail piece" was designed by Mr. Doyle after a drawing by the 
same artist in the possession of Frederick Locker, Esq.] 



17^ 



-0-^i} 



4H— o- 



% Case in S^xmati). 




AS any one read the great lunacy 

CASE ? 

\ The case that's lock'd, and labell'd, 
and laced 



/ '*' With a tishue of Hes, and a docket 
of ' waste,' 
And a golden key, the reverse 

of chased, 
(Tho' hunted thro' the Hilary) — 
Has any one read how the Law can hound, 

And badger, and bully a man, 'till it's bound 
A mortgage on ev'ry acre of ground. 



■0 — Hy 



-0 — m 



17.- 



->— H'n 



Puck 071 Pegasus. 

And robb'd him of sixty thousand pound — 
. Without being put in the pillory ? 

Has any one read — does any one know— 

If he marries a wife who's not quite comme il faut, 

And a handsome estate should inherit,— 
What a SUIT of chancery can effect, 

To strip him, even of self-respect, 
Hold him up to scorn contempt and neglect, 

And ruin him, body and spirit? ' 

Has any one read — mark'd — weigh'd — the worth 
Of a common name and a kindred birth, 
A brother's — uncle's — love upon earth, 
To the love that is filthy lucre's ? 
How day after day, without being hurt, 
A man can drag his own flesh thro' the dirt 
For a thousand pounds at his broker's ? 

Yes, ev'ry one's read — we all of us know — 

What man's ' first friend ' could become his worst foe, 



6 



174 



rfH— ^ 



A Case in Lunacy. 

Bring him up in the way he ought not to go, — 
Then He, to make him a beggar ; — 
Turn him loose upon Town without guardian or friend, - 
Lay traps in his paths lest they happen'd to mend,- 
Set spies to note ev'ry shilling he'd spend — 
Ev'ry pitiful pound he might borrow or lend, — 
And dip his fingers in slime without end — 
We can guess who cuts such a figure ! 




o 



=——-"—'——- — — 5 — Hft 

175 



<H — 0- 



-^—±ih 



iU-^- 



% Squeak from g can's gariJ. 



Mind your P's and Q's. 



[These are the verses which the Honourable Scrawls wrote to liis 
Leonora, when he had perfected his running hand in " Six lessons fr(Wi 
the Flying Pen."] 



FIRST VERSE. 

sqeaktomemyLeonora ! 

SqeakacrosstheStormydeep, 
Wherethewhitebaitandthelobster 
Andtheyarmouthbloatersleep — 
lliroughathousandleaguesofwater 
Thatsoftvoiceshallcometome — 
— SqeakofLoveoh Leonora! 
Andbidmesqeaktothee. 



176 




-0 — m 



A squeak from Dean's Yard. 

SECOND VERSE. 

Scarceaweekandfromhiscountry 

WillreluctantScravvlshavefled, 

SquinningofftoPragueorPekin— 

Orbesquinhimselfinstead : 
0,ifthroughrelentlessRyan 

ColdDean's-Yardmygravemustbe 
Sqeakstillsqeakofl-oveLeonora, 
Andl'llsqeakbacktothee. 
(Third, and remaining hundred and twenty-five verses, ille- 
gible.) 




m-^— — — ~ ^ — 

177 



iii 0- 



■o—tib 




HE shades of night had fallen (/?/ /asf !) 
When from the Eagle Tavern pass'd 
A youth, who bore, in manual vice, 
A pot of something monstrous nice — 
XX— oh lor ! 



His brow was bad : — his young eye scann'd 
The frothing flaggon in his hand, 
And like a gurgling streamlet sprung 
The accents to that thirsty tongue, 

XX— oh lor! 

In happy homes he saw them grub 
On stout, and oysters from a tub, — 
The dismal gas-lights gleam'd without, 
And from his lips escaped a shout, 

" XX ! oh lor ! " 



->— ftp 



ijj : 0—H^. 



Exexolor ! 

" Young man," the Sage observ'd, " just stay, 
"And let me dip my beak, I say, 
" The pewter is deep, and 1 am dry ! " — 
" Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye ? 

XX? oh lor! 



" Oh stop," the maiden cried, " and lend 
" Thy beery burden here, my friend — " 
Th' unbidden tear regretful rose. 
But still his thumb tip sought his nose ; 

"XX?— oh lor! !" 



" Beware the gutter at thy feet ! 
" Beware the Dragons of the street ! 
" Beware lest thirsty Bob you meet ! " 
This was the ultimate remark ; 
A voice replied far thro' the dark, 

"XX! oh lor!" 



-0 — RJ 



179 



ifH — ^ 



->-±ih 



Puck oil Pegasus. 

That night, by watchmen on their round, 

The person in a ditch was found ; 

Still grasping in his manual vice 

That pot — once fiU'd with something nice. — 

XX oh lor ! ! ! 



> 







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I So 



*H — c- 



■^ — H»; 



THE THREAD OF LIFE. 



^W-<—. ,, ,, 



tH — 0- 



-C— Hh 



iH — 0- 



Clje Cljreab of fife. 



A FRAGMENT. 



U-J/Zer T—s H—d.) 




IFE ! what depths of mystery 

hide 
In the oceans of Hate and the 

rivers of Pride, 
That mingle in Tribulation's 
tide, 
To quench the spark 
Vitality ! 
What chords of Love and " bands " of Hope, 



182 



-<v— HfJ 



rt^t— Hi 



The Thread of Life. 

Were " made strong " (without the use of rope) 
In the Thread — Individuality. 

Life ! what a web of follies and fears, 
Pleasures and griefs, sighs, smiles and tears, 
Are twined in the woof that Mortality's shears 

Must be everlastingly thinning, — 
What holes for Physician Death to darn, 
Are eternally spun in the wonderful yarn 

That the Fates are eternally spinning I 

Life ! what marvellous throbs and throes 

The alchemy of Existence knows ; 

What " weals within wheels" (and woes without woahs !) 

Give sophistry a handle ; 
Though Hare himself could be dipp'd in the well 
Where Truth's proverbial waters dwell. 
It would throw no more light on the vital spell 
Than a dip in the Polytechnic bell, 

Or the dip — a ha'penny candle. 



^fH — — ~ — ' — o— W 

183 



{jJ o__ 



Puck on Pegasus, 

Alas ! for the metaphysical host ; 

The wonderful wit and wisdom they boast, 

When the time arrives they must give up the ghost, 

Become quite phantasmagorical, — 
And it's found at the last that they know as much 
Of the secret of LIFE— as they do of Dutch— 
Or, if a lame verse may borrow a crutch, 

As was known by the Delphic Oracle. 

Into being we come, in ones and twos, 

To be kiss'd, to be cufif'd, to obey, to abuse, 

Each destined to stand in another's shoes 

To whose heels we may come the nighest ; 
This turns at once into Luxury's bed. 
Whilst that in a gutter lays his head. 
And this — in a house with a wooden lid 

And a roof that's none of the highest. 

We fall like the drops of April show'rs, 
Cradled in mud or cradled in flow'rs. 



(^-^3^ 




'J'o/aci'J>. 185. 



rfH — « — m 



The Thread of Life. 

Now idly to wile the rosy hours, 

And now for bread to importune ; 
Petted, and feted, and fed upon pap 
One prattler comes in for a fortune, slap — 
And one, a ' more kicks than ha'pence ' chap, 
For a slap — without the fortune ! 



Oh, who hasn't heard of the infant squall ? 

Sharper, shriller, and longer than all 

The Nor'-wester squalls, that may chance to befall 
At Cape Horn, as nauticals tell us ; 

And who, — oh who ? — hasn't heard before 

The dulcet tones of the infant roar ? 

Ear-piercing in at the drawing-room door — 

Down-bellowing, right through the nursery floor- 
Like a hundred power bellows? 

Alas ! that the very rosiest wreath 

Should ever be twined with a thorn beneath ! 



185 



-0 — YS\ 



iJH — 0- 



Puck on Pegasus. 

Forth peeping, from purple' and damask sheath, 

In a manner quite anti-floral ; 
And startling, as when to that Indian root 
The traveller stretches his hand for the fruit. 
And a crested head comes glittering out 
With a tongue that is somewhat forkbd no doubt, 

And a tail — that has quite a moral ! 
And who'd have believed that diminutive thing 
Just form'd as you'd say, to kiss and to cling, 
Would ever have opened, except to sing, 

Those lips, that look so choral? 

Behold the soft little struggling ball ! 
With rosy mouth ever ready to squall, 
Kicking and crowing and grasping " small," 

At its India-rubber dangle, — 
Whilst tiny fists in the pillow lurk 
That are destined perhaps for fighting the Turk, 
And doing no end of mangling work. 

Or perhaps, for working a mangle ! 



n£H— 0- 



The Thread of Life. 

'Tis passing strange, that all over the earth 

Men talk of the "stars" that "rule" at their birth, 

For little such dazzling sponsors are worth, 

Whate'er Cagliostro may say ; 
Though all the Bears in the heav'ns combined — 
Mars, Mercury, Venus, and Jupiter shined, 
In our glitt'ring horoscope, we shall find 
Most men who are born of woman kind 

Are born in the milky-way. 



In the milky-way! ev'ry mother's son; 

From the son of a lord, to the " son of a gun, 

Of colours, red, brown and yellow and dun. 

An astonishing constellation ; 
From the black Papouse of the Cape de Verd, 
The cream of Tartar, and scum of Kurd, 
To the son and heir of Napoleon the Third, 

Who sucks — to the joy of a Nation ! 
And that puny atom may happen to claim 



4ftt — — tfe 

187 



iU — 0- 0—pb 



Puck on Pegasus. 

The very first round on the Ladder of Fame, 
At the general conflagration. 



The squeaky voice may be heard ere long 
In the shout of the battle, deep and strong, 
Like the brazen clash of a mighty gong 
That has broken loose from tether ; 
Whilst many a hardy bosom quails, 
And many a swarthy visage pales 
At the griffin clutch of those tender nails 
As they come to the scratch together. 



But well says a poet of rising fame, 
That to hint at an "infantile frailty's" a shame; 
For the baby-days have come round the same 
To us all, and we can't but confess 'em; 
When the brawny hands, that can rend an oak, 
Went both into Mammy's mouth for a joke — 



rfH — — — H»: 



The Thread of Life. 

And the feet that stand like the solid rock, 
Were "tootsies pootsies, bless 'em!" 

When to howl was the only accomplishment rife 
In our " tight little bundle '" of wailing and strife, 
And pap was the siimmum bommi of life, 

To a mouth in perpetual pucker; 
When Ma was a semi-intelligent lump, 
Possessed by a mania for making us " plump," 
And Nus was an inexhaustible pump 

With an everlasting " sucker." 

Yet, laugh if we will at those baby-days, 
There was more of bliss in its careless plays, 
Than in after time from the careful ways 
Or the hollow world, with its empty praise, 
Its honeyed speeches, and hackneyed phrase, 

And its pleasures, for ever fleeting \ 
And more of sense in its bald little pate. 
On its own little matters of Church and State, 



~o—^\ 



tH — 0- 



# 



iU 0- 



Ptick on Pegasus. 

Than in many a House of Commons' debate, 
Or the " sense " of a Manchester meeting ! 

And laugh as we may, it would make us start, 
Could we read the depths of its mother's heart, - 
Or imagine one twenty-thousandth part 

Of the feelings that stir within it ; 
What a freight that little existence bears 
Of pallid smiles and tremulous tears, 
Of joys never breathed into mortal ears, 
Griefs that the callous world never hears, 
Sufif'ring that only the more endears, 
And love, that would reach into endless years, 

Snuffed out, it may be, in a minute ! 

Would you look on a mother in all her pride? 
Her radiant, dazzling, glorious pride ? 
Then seek yon garret — leaden-eyed — 

And thrust the mouldering panel aside — 
The door that has nothing to lock it. — 



190 



rfH Hi 



The Thread of Life. 

And the walls are tattered, and damp, and drear, 
And the light has a quivering gleam, like fear, 
For the hand of Sickness is heavy here. 

And the lamp burns low in the socket. 

Mid rags, and want, and misery, piled, 
A woman is watching her stricken child, 
With a love so tender, a look so mild, 
That the patient little sufif'rer has smiled — 

A smile that is strangely fair ! — 
And lo ! in that chamber, poverty-dyed, 
A mother in all her dazzling pride — 

A glorious mother is there ! 

And the child is squalid, and puny, and thin, — 
But hush — hush your voice as you enter in ! 
Nor dare to despise, lest a deadly sin 

On your soul rest unforgiven ; — 
Perchance, oh scornful and worldly-wise, 
A Shakespeare dreams in those thoughtful eyes— 



4tJ^— <- 



191 



■O Hi 



Puck on Pegasus. 

A Newton looks out at the starry skies- 
Or a 'prison'd angel in calm surprise 
Looks back to its Heaven !" 



192 



nEH— 0- 



The Thread of Life. 



PART II. 

Life, life ! a year or two more, 

And the Bark has launch'd from the quiet shore 

To the restless waves that bubble and roar, 

Where the billow never slumbers, — 
And the storms of Fate have caught in the sail, 
And the sharks are gathering thick on his trail. 
Like a New Edition of Jonah's whale — 

That is coming out in Numbers ! 



193 



iiA — -0 — h':i 



m — 0- 



Ptick on Pegasus. 



PART III, 

Tempus, time, — -fugit, flies ! 

And the ship returns with a gallant prize, 

A fairy Craft of diminutive size, 

Or perhaps with a huge Three-decker; 
He has sailed from the matrimonial shore, 
With a " breeze " at starting, and " squalls " in store, 
And he's married a blue, or he's wed to a bore, 

Or perhaps — to my Lady Pecker ! 



London: R. Clay, Son, and Taylor, Printers 



194 



-»— Be 



"ENORMOUS BURLESQUE — unapproachable and tke-kuitsi ekt. — JVe venitire 
to think that this very queer volume will be a favourite. It deserves to be so, and ive should 
suggest that, to a dull person desirous to get credit tuiih the young holiday people, it would be 
good policy to invest in the book, and dole it out in insiahnents ." — Saturday Review, 
Nov. 30, 1867. 

THE NEW RIDDLE BOOK. 

On toned paper, cloth, ^s. 6d. ; cloth gilt, with coloured cover by G. Dore, %s. 6d. 

r u lit ; n n m > 

or, 

THOOGHTS WISE AHG OTHER-WISE. 

A NEW COLLECTION OF THE BEST— 




-^» ETC. 



NOW NEWLY TOLD BY 



THE HON. HUGH ROWLEY. 



WITH NEARLY ONE HUNDRED DESIGNS FROM HIS PENCIL. 



JOHN CAMDEN IIOTTEN, PICCADILLY. 



NEW BOOKS, SERIOUS AND HUMOROUS. 



In crown 8vo. pp. 650, ys. 6d. 

CARICATURE HISTORY OF THE GEORGES ; or, the History of the House 

of Hanover, from the Squibs, the Broadsides, the Window Pictures, Lampoons, and Pictorial Caricatures 
of the Time. By THOMAS WRIGHT, F.S.A. 
*.:^* Uniform with "History of Signboards," and a companion volume to it. A most amusing and instructive 

work. 

G. DORE'S SPECIAL FAVOURITES. 

Immediately, oblong 410. handsome Table-book, -js. 6d. 

HISTORICAL CARTOONS ; or, Pictures of the World's History from the First to 

the Nineteenth Century. By GUSTAVE DORE. 
*j.* A new book of daring and inimitable designs by this Artist, which will e.xcite considerable attention, and, 

doubtless, command a large sale. 

IMMENSE FUN FOR EVERYBODY. "A book to enjoy and laugh over." 
SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES ; the Book of Cockney Sports, Whims, and Oddities. 

Complete set of the 180 Humorous Illustrations at an exceedingly moderate price ; highly amusing ; 
designed by ROBERT SEYMOUR, the well-known illustrator of the " Pickwick Papers." 4to. a hand- 
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NEIV AND GENUINE BOOK OF HUMOUR. UNIFORM WITH "ARTEMUS WARD." 
Crown Svo. toned paper, y. 6d. 

MR. SPROUTS HIS OPINIONS. 

*^* Readers who found amusement in Artemus Ward's droll books will have no Cause to complain of this 
humorous production. A Costermonger who gets into Parliament, and becomes one of the most "practical" 
Members, rivalling Bernal Osborne in his wit and Roebuck in his satire, 02ight to be an amusing person. 

Now ready, ys. 6d. 

HISTORY OF SIGNBOARDS. A Fourth Edition. 

"5.* The Times, in a review of three columns, remarked that the " good things In the book were so numerous 
as to defy the most wholesale depredation on the part of any reviewer." 

Nearly 100 most curious illustrations on wood are given, showing the various old signs which were formerly 
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UNIFORM WITH "ESSAYS WRITTEN IN THE INTERVALS OF BUSINESS." 
A Choice Book, on toned paper, 6j. 
THE COLLECTOR. Essays on Books, Authors, Newspapers, Pictures, Inns, Doctors, 
Holidays, &c. Introduction by Dr. DORAN. 
%* A charming volume of delightful Essays, with exquisitely-engraved Vignette of an Old-Book Collector 
busily engaged in his favourite pursuit of book-hunting. The work Is a companion volume to Disraeli's 
" Curiosities of Literature," and to the more recently published " Book-Hunter," by Mr. John Hill Burton. 

NEW BOOK by the "ENGLISH GUSTAVE DORF.."—Covipaiiion to tJie ".Hatc/zet-Thro^uers." 
4to. Illustrations, coloured, -js. dd.; plain, 5V. 

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AN EXTRAORDINARY BOOK. 
Beautifully printed, thick Svo. new, half-morocco, Roxburghe, 12s-. 6d. 

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*.it* The most singular designs ever attempted by any artist. The book is a fund of amusement. So crammed 
is It with pictures that even the contents are adorned with thirty-three Illustrations. 
D irect application viust be made to Mr. Hottenfor iki.i iLwrk. 

London : JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, 74 & 75, Piccadilly. 



1^ 









LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 525 305 6 




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.•■^;:.'-. ■,•, VJ y- ■-',•%',.'. ^' ■',t,■?'.V.: 




